


Drive

by HermioneIncarnate



Category: Stephanie Plum - Janet Evanovich
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 02:44:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneIncarnate/pseuds/HermioneIncarnate
Summary: When life becomes too much, will a road trip be the solution to Stephanie's problems? Rated M for references to sexual assault, adult situations, violence, smut, and language. Strong Steph metamorphosis/Babe HEA. Thanks for reading!NOTE: I am currently uploading this through chapter 50.  I'm unfamiliar with the AO3 format, so please bear with me over the next several days as I go through the process.  Thank you!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> A/N: Hello! This story was originally posted on FanFiction.net. I will update all chapters to match the same progression and then post simultaneously.

**Stephanie POV**

Drive.  Just drive.  It was the dominant, all-consuming thought in my brain.  I stood in my low-rent apartment, and I knew I had to leave.  The rooms felt smaller as my breathing became heavier.  _Focus._   I can’t just leave.  Everyone will think I’m running away, and I don’t want people following me.  I’m not running, but I can’t stay here.  I need a break, a chance to break down without an audience.  To do so, I need to leave with at least an attempt at peace in my wake. 

I numbly walk into my bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag, tossing in random clothes and shoes. Stopping in the bathroom, I am surprised by my own reflection.  My curly brown hair is more askew than usual, the bags under my eyes darker and my skin paler.  I sigh but make no attempt to fix any of it. 

Stepping back into the bedroom, I give the room one last cursory glance.  My eyes land on a familiar t-shirt.  I shut them quickly, trying to close out the flash of memory I am trying so hard to forget.  I need to drive. 

I stop in the kitchen and decide to leave a cursory note. Grabbing a ripped envelope from a junk solicitation, I quickly scrawl,

_If you’ve broken in, you realize I’m not here.  
I’m taking an impromptu vacation.  I’ll be back when I get back._

Good enough.  Upbeat enough.  Or maybe I’m just hoping it’s enough. 

I take out my cell phone and send a text to work, letting Connie know I have no outstanding files and I’ll be unavailable for a few days.  I don’t wait for a reply before turning my phone off and stowing it in my purse.  Frankly, I don’t even care if I have a job when I get back.  It doesn’t matter.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, tuck my hamster Rex’s aquarium under my arm, and lock the door behind me.  I already feel my breath evening out.  I’m doing this.  I take a quick glance around my parking lot, breathing a further sigh of relief I see no one familiar. Starting up my early 2000s silver Honda Civic DX, I head towards my parent’s house.  This is the latest car in a long line of cars.  I owned the previous one for a whole 38 hours before it went all fireball.  I’ve owned this one for a whole 38 days, practically a personal record.

I can do this.  I can do this.  I repeat the words to myself as a feeble pep talk.  It’s my last obstacle. 

The Burg radar is fully-operational, and my mother and Grandma Mazur are waiting on the front stoop as I pull in.  I love my home, and I hate my home.  Mostly, I am resigned.  It’s a brick and paneled side by side duplex typical of the post-WWII building revival that spurred suburban neighborhood development in Trenton, New Jersey and elsewhere. 

“Stephanie Michelle Plum,” my mother, Ellen Plum, begins before I’ve even entered the door.  “Why are you here so early?  Is it with any good news?  Things I hope for every day are ‘Mom, I’ve quit my job,’ ‘Mom, I’ve accepted Joseph’s proposal, and we set a date,’ or ‘Mom, I’ve managed to go an entire day without bringing embarrassment to my family.’  Edna Marino’s daughter gave her mom great news today!  She’s pregnant!”

I look down at my feet and count to five.  I have to face them to take this break.  I can do this.  Before I can reply, Grandma pipes in.  “Why would Stephanie want to settle down with Joe Morelli when she can court that Ranger as well?  They both have great packages!”  My mother and I sigh in unison.  Grandma Mazur came to live with my parents when Grandpa Mazur went to the never-ending all-you-can-eat buffet in the sky.  My mother and I don’t agree on much, but we do agree that Grandma’s complete lack of inhibitions and filter make having a normal conversation, well, difficult.  This entire visit has my heart rate up and my thoughts are narrowing.  I want to leave.  Mom glances at the cupboard over the sink, but I can see her resolve that 8 am isn’t 5 o’clock somewhere.

Ignoring them both, I attempt to extricate myself from the conversation by getting straight to the point.  “Mom, I’ve decided to take a long weekend.  I didn’t want you to worry.  Would you mind watching Rex for a couple of days?”

She gives me a hard look.  “What’s this?  Are you going with Joseph?  Not by yourself?  What will everyone think?” 

I look her in the eye for the first time since my arrival and quietly say, “Please.” 

It’s out of character for us.  We usually fight, talk, and cajole in the loudest of terms with flailing arms and people stomping out.  It gives her pause, and she thankfully, mercifully stops her relentless nagging. 

“Of course I’ll take Rex.  Call us with updates.  I expect you for dinner when you get back.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.  “Thank you.”  I place Rex on the counter, hugging my mother and grandmother, and leave. 

With each step, I feel an equal measure of relief and nothingness wash over more.  I can be free.  Now I can drive.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.

**Stephanie POV**

I don’t know where I am going.  I don’t care.  I don’t have the patience for stop signs.  I need to be free.  I turn on the Jersey Turnpike headed south, driving faster and faster.  I’m going 10, 15, 20 mph over the speed limit.  I want to go faster, but the threat of a trip to jail for driving recklessly reigns me in.  The greater the distance between myself and Trenton, the more I feel the emotional walls I’ve built around myself begin the crumble.  The car is silent.  I stare ahead, and all the thoughts I’ve wanted to repress begin to swirl around my brain in a disjointed mess.

Once I reach I-95S, I stop for gas, I stop to pee, but I never stray from the interstate.  I’m not hungry.  Hell, not even a TastyCake appeals as a road snack.  I suck down a Red Bull and get back on the road with as little wasted time as possible.  The repetitive numbness of the road, mile marker sign after mile marker sign, whizzing by in my periphery serves as the anchor to my troubled mind.

**Ranger POV**

I’m working through the files on my desk.  Tank does his best to stay ahead when I’m in the wind, as Stephanie says, but the fact remains he has his own work to do in addition to shouldering mine.  I’ve been back for a little more than a month, and it seems I’ve only made a dent.  We need to hire someone.  I want it to be Steph, but she seems to think it would be a pity job.  The Core Team and I think she’d be perfect given her experience, education, and rapport with the Rangemen, but we can’t seem to convince her otherwise.

Stephanie.  Babe.  I look out the window and reflect.

She sounds the same.  She laughs and jokes with the guys mostly the same.  She engages with Connie and Lula in the Bonds office the same.  But when she thinks no one is looking, she isn’t the same.  There is a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there before I left six months ago.  She’s also thinner, but not in a fitness way.  I know something is wrong, but I can’t begin to figure out what it is. 

She’s been on again with Morelli, so I’ve kept my distance, but even there…  It’s different.  I’ve yet to see her kiss him or even hold hands.  She hasn’t slept many nights in her apartment, but the two times I crept in after she was asleep only amplified my concern.  Her face seemed troubled, and I could see dried tear tracks in the moonlight. 

I turn my head to a knock on the doorframe.  Lester stands there.  I nod my head slightly, giving him permission to enter.  “Hey Boss, we have unusual activity on Bombshell’s trackers.  It seems she is headed south and travelling at a high rate of speed, anywhere from 80-90 miles per hour.  Last position was I-95S between Baltimore and DC.” 

I look at my watch.  It’s noon.  I nod at my cousin again, intending for him to be dismissed.  I raise my left eyebrow slightly as he hesitates. 

“Do you think she’s ok?”  Lester asks.  I’m surprised Lester would challenge me like this, but it speaks volumes to how much Stephanie means to the guys.  I purse my lips in a thin line and make a decision.  It’s time for me to close the distance between Steph and myself. 

Standing, I order Lester to assemble a complete report on Stephanie’s latest movements, FTAs, stalkers, Burg gossip, the whole nine yards and report back at 1200, an hour from now.  Walking to Tank’s office, my number two, best friend, and right-hand man, I fill him in and tell him I’ll be investigating her apartment.  He, too, looks concerned and says, “I’m worried.  Something’s been off with Little Girl for a while.  At first, I thought it was your departure and arrival, but I’m not convinced anymore.” 

I nearly sigh but catch myself.  “Agreed,” I reply as I stride out of the room.

Bach plays quietly in my Porsche 911 as I drive towards her apartment.  I don’t expect to find her here, but I can’t believe she would just leave town either.  I take the stairs two at a time, make short order of her lock and have my Glock at the ready.  I clear the apartment, and the first thing I notice is Rex is gone.  The next I notice is a note where the hamster normally resides. 

I almost snort as I read the note.  A vacation.  Right.  She’s running away.  I can feel it.  But to where, and why?  I need to catch up to her.  The further she is away from us, the greater the chance she has to slip away should she decide.  I need more intel and fast.  I try calling her phone, but it goes to voicemail.  I square my shoulders as I turn to head out and stop at the sight of an angry looking Joe Morelli.

 

**Joe POV**

I’m annoyed.  And I have blue balls.  Things were going great between us!  Then the last three months, she started pulling away.  I’d love to blame it on Manoso, but he wasn’t here, and I know she hasn’t spent much time in his company since he’s been back.  She started being less enthusiastic in the bedroom, and then we started having sex less.  She still stays at my place most nights, but we just…sleep.  I’m fine with not cuddling, I like my space in bed, but really, our relationship is becoming more and more platonic as the days go by. 

I think it’s because her life is just a constant disaster.  I cannot, for the life of me, possibly understand why she won’t quit that dangerous job of hers.  I tried talking to her about it after her last car explosion, but she never even responded.  She just stared into the flames.  I talked louder and waved my arms at her, but it was no use.  Well, if she didn’t want to talk, then I didn’t either.  And so it seems we settled into a fairly silent, semi-uncomfortable and sexless routine. 

I’ve noticed my eye has started wandering again.  I haven’t cheated, but things can’t continue the way they are; it’s why I’m on my way to Steph’s apartment now.  We need to talk.  I go the door and can’t help but feel my temper flare as I see Manoso standing inside. 

“What are you doing here?” I spit out.  Glancing around I call out, “Cupcake!” 

Manoso pushes a piece of paper towards me.  “Fuck!” I exclaim, running a hand through my hair. 

She just left.  She said nothing.  She didn’t even trust Rex with me.  If she needed a vacation so bad, why didn’t she take me or at least let me know?  I go to call her cell all under _his_ constant gaze.  Voicemail, and I end the call.  I purse my lips in a thin line and make a decision.  It’s time to increase the distance between Stephanie and myself. 

I walk out without another glance at Manoso and begin calling her phone again as I get into my POS detective’s car.  When the voicemail predictably picks up again, I’m ready. 

“Cupcake, I’m sorry.  I know things have been different between us, and I know something is up with you.  The best part of us is the sex, and without that, we are barely friends.  When you get back from your _vacation_ , I’ll have removed all your things from my home and returned them to you.  I’m moving on.  If you want to compete for the title of Mrs. Morelli when you get back, you can do so on an open playing field.  I love you, I always will.  I hope you figure out what you want.”  I hang up and drive away.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

As I speed down the interstate, equal measures relief and emotional upheaval wash over me.  I try to focus on the road, but the farther from Trenton I get, the more I feel the cracks in the dam grow.  It’s getting harder to hold the memories back.  I think back to mid-June, three months ago.  Ranger had been in the wind.  Joe and I were in a comfortable place.  I could never have anticipated the impact one early summer day, which had dawned bright and clear, would have on my sanity.

**Flashback**

I had woken up slowly from sleep in Ranger’s black t-shirt and Joe’s boxers.  I padded out of bed and shuffled across the room.  Looking at my disheveled appearance in the mirror I couldn’t help but smirk at the visual contradiction my life is.  My stomach growled and a quick trip through my bare cupboards told me it’s a catch-a-skip-to-eat kind of a day. 

Getting ready quickly, I donned my Stephanie Plum go-to outfit of jeans, Converse sneakers and a t-shirt that fits great and revealed just a hint of cleavage in the V-neck.  Adding an extra coat of mascara, I said bye to Rex and headed out to conquer the world. 

I drove straight to Bonds Office via the Tasty Pastry where a baker’s dozen of New Jersey’s finest donuts just happened into my car.  Connie, the office manager looked up at me over her nail file and breathed in through her nose.  She is gorgeous, in an Italian American, faint shadow of a mustache, Betty Boop kind of way.  All cleavage, curves and dark hair, it would be impossible to accurately guess her age.

“Vinnie is in a state this morning,” Connie warned. 

“File for donuts,” I bargain.  It’s an easy deal.

Vinnie is a cousin on my father’s side with a colorful reputation.  As my mother’s daughter, I’ve been well-trained to the Burg gossip grindstone.  Armed with some secrets involving a duck and his sexual preferences that he’d rather not have made public, I got a job, and he got a brand new bounty hunter.  It mostly works out for both of us. 

Lula, a close friend, office clerk, and sometimes partner stood up from the brown, cracked pleather sofa and strode towards the donut box.  She had mermaid hair in shades of blue, aqua and pink with a matching sequined tube top and an aqua green pencil skirt that flared into a ruffle at the knee.  I couldn’t tell you how, but the aquatic chic look somehow worked for her.

Sitting on the couch with a Boston Crème, I reviewed the file.  The skip’s name is Michael Bruno who was charged with a DUI.  He grew up in the Burg.  Hmmm. I took another look at the mug shot, and the nagging feeling in the back of my brain has a eureka moment.  I knew that name.  He was one of Morelli’s posse back in high school. 

“I’m off.  I’ll start on this right away,” I said to Connie. 

“Good.  We all want Vinnie to take the chill pill he will once the skip, and more importantly, the money from the bond comes in,”  Connie replied.

I snicker, grateful I’ll be on the streets and not manning the office. 

“Want any help?”  Lula calls out. 

“Nah,” I reply.  “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”

With luck on my side, I thought why not just go to his house.  I knew from a conversation with Morelli that I half paid attention to last night that the Phillies had a day game today.  Perhaps he’d be camped out on his couch, beer in hand.  A three-mile drive later, a knock on the door resulted in two surprised faces. 

I was temporarily blinded by the whiteness of a slightly balding Michael Bruno standing in his Phillies shirt, tightie whities and tube socks.  The two-day-old beard and stale beer smell indicated this was a worn-in look for him.  Michael looked initially startled and then thrilled as he recognized me. 

“Stephanie!  Come in!  Long time, no see! What’s brings you to my casa?”

“Hi, Michael,” I say with a smile.  “I’m here as bond enforcement.  You missed your court date.  I’d like to take you to the station to reschedule.” 

Michael had the conscience to look chagrined.  “Yeah, I guess I just forgot.  I’ll tell you what.  Let’s finish the game, we sit and catch up, and I’ll go with you easy as a favor to Joe.” 

I give him a long look.  “If we don’t finish the game…” I decide to challenge. 

He gives me an equally serious look, “Then I make you the center of the Burg gossip machine by running through town in my underwear shouting ‘Thief!’ as you chase me.” 

It’s an easy decision.  “One condition,” I counter.  “You have to put pants on.” 

He grins widely at me, “Only if the Phillies win.”  We make ourselves comfy on the couch.

Around the seventh inning, Michael stretched and got another beer.  “So, Morelli, eh.  I gotta say, I’m still holding out hope I’ll win the bet that you don’t end up with him.” 

I did my best to wipe the cod-fish impression off my face. 

“I mean,” he continued, “Boinking a girl on the floor of the Tasty Pastry and then advertising the deed all over town is a helluva pickup routine.  He even went so far as to threaten all of us with his fists if we attempted to have his sloppy seconds while he was away in the Navy.”  He takes another swig of his beer and groans as the Phillies fall behind by a run.  “I really thought I would win the bet when you ran him over with the Buick.  Would have been a thousand-dollar payday, too!  But the terms said you had to be married and for more than one year before I could cash out.  We all know how Dickie turned out, so there the pot sits.  I mean, did you agree to sleep with him to bring him in when he was running and hiding out and rediscover his Italian Stallion bullshit?  Is he really that good in bed?”  Now he is full on laughing at his own recanting. 

“A BET!” I exclaim, finding my voice. 

Michael continued to laugh at me and said, “With interest, there is more than $1,200 sitting in a bank account waiting for you two to finally be together or apart.  I don’t even know how many people have paid in at this point.  Honestly, I always thought you were too good for any of us, so I bet against Joe.  I have yet to be proven wrong, but I also haven’t been proven right.”

I’m reeling.  This is just too much.  I’m a bet?  My luck finishes running out as the Phillies lose, and I lay a towel down on my seat to take Michael down to the station.

**End of Flashback**

I knew that was when I began to see my world as it was and not in the carefully constructed denial-land version I’d enjoyed living in. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

A sign indicating Richmond whizzes past.  As I drive, I focus straight ahead, doing my best impression of Ranger’s blank face as a means of tamping down the wave of sadness building up inside me.  I know I’m a fuck up who hurts everyone around me.  I am finding more of my own fault in all of the things that seem to constantly go wrong around me.

I wanted my relationship with Joe to work, and I wanted my mother’s approval.  I tried to be happy with him, but I couldn’t ever figure out what the _but_ was.  It was after my conversation with Michael the _but_ started to make itself known. 

My mind drifts back again to that day. 

**Flashback**

After dropping Michael off at the station, I drive on autopilot back to Joe’s home, where I had been staying.  I spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the blank TV.  I am trying to understand myself.  I feel numb, resigned, and I desperately want to be in denial land.  Deep down, I know I should be outraged, to defend myself with the full rhino-mode of a Jersey girl.  Why do I feel so stuck? 

I determine it is partly because I don’t want to believe the Joe I knew and hated at 16 is the Joe I know and love now.  I don’t doubt Michael is telling to truth about the bet, but perhaps it is part of Joe’s past and not the reason we are together today.  I want to believe people change.  Before I give up the hopes I had for a future with Joe, I need to know the truth.  For once in my life, I don’t want to be rash.

I jump as the door slams, and I hear Joe before I see him. 

“Cupcake!  What’s this I hear about you bringing Michael Bruno in in his underwear?  It isn’t enough your job is embarrassing to me and anyone who takes law enforcement seriously?  Now you have to embarrass my friends?”  He throws Bob the dog a milk bone and lets him out into the yard before grabbing a beer and settling down on the couch beside me. 

I sigh.  “It’s not my fault.  He said he would only put pants on if the Phillies won, and we both know how that turned out.” 

Joe shakes his head.  “You shouldn’t have been there at all.  There are so many other ways to earn a living, Cupcake.  Hell, you don’t even have to work.  You know my offer of marriage, babies and a happily ever after still stands.”

I did.  And as I sit there, I feel that happily ever after begin to slip away.  I don’t have the energy to fight, to ask the hard questions.  A part of me still loves him, still hopes.  So, I divert and ask Joe if he has dinner plans. 

“How does pizza sound?”  he queries, and I dial Pino’s.  The evening proceeds as the hundred before them; TV, couch, nothing much said conversation. 

As we head up to bed, Joe suddenly pushes me against bedroom wall before breathing into my neck, “You know I love you, right?”  My own breath catches as he kisses me hard before taking my shirt off, touching me in all the places that usually set my insides on fire.  Except this time, they didn’t. 

With a shock, an image flashes in my brain.  I was six.  It was summer, hot, the smell of oil hung in the air.  Fingers.  Inside me.  Confusion.  My mom’s anger. 

The sudden wave of shame that washes over me is paralyzing.  Joe doesn’t notice or maybe he doesn’t care.  He takes his pants off, then half lays, half pushes me onto the bed while assisting me with my own pants before positioning himself on top of me.  Despite the intimacy of the moment, I feel detached from him as he thrusts to the tempo of his own pleasure.  I need this to end, so I fake an orgasm.  I didn’t stay on the bed beside Joe when he finishes, excusing myself to the restroom. 

I slide down the wall as the memory of that day assaults my brain.  My mom had warned me against playing with the Morelli boys, but I was inexplicably drawn.  I don’t know what I thought he meant when he asked if I wanted to play Choo-Choo, but I certainly had no concept of his version of the game.  I didn’t even know what a vagina was at six-years-old. 

Sitting there, I remember the confusion when he asked me to take off my panties.  Then I remembered the pain as he pushed his dirty fingers inside me.  To think I had wanted to be the train.  I realize then I had never mourned the innocence lost that day.

I had tried to talk to my mom; I had tried to understand.  She told me how disgusting and embarrassing I was.  I was told to never repeat the story, and I hadn’t. 

**End of Flashback**

I did my best to forget that day.  All I did was delay the feelings until now.  That shame, that vulnerability has been a heavy coat since.  I can’t escape the sense of responsibility that if I had been better, made better decisions, listened to my mom, I could have prevented it all.  I could have grown up to be a child she loved.  It was my fault.

I couldn’t have known it that day, but I was to never have another orgasm with Joe Morelli.

 

**Ranger POV**

“Report,” I bark.  Tank, Lester and Bobby are assembled in the conference room.  The silence that followed was unexpected.  I look at each of them.  Lester spoke up first.

“All is quiet on the Bomber front,” he states.  “There isn’t much to report.  It seems after her last car explosion, there hasn’t been any trouble from her FTA’s.  There is nothing from Stark Street.”  I nod and look at Tank. 

“I couldn’t find much either.  I asked Lula about gossip.  She said the only thing people are talking about is that she and Morelli seems to be on the outs.  Lula didn’t hear about Joe stepping out on her but…”  Tank locks eyes with me with the unspoken knowledge of Joe’s many varied extracurricular activities when he and Steph are on a break. 

“I went to her parent’s house,” Lester adds.  “Rex is there, and her grandmother said she dropped him off this morning citing a vacation.  Her grandmother seemed to think Stephanie was a bit down, and this trip would be a good thing.”

I look at Bobby.  “I’ve been concerned about Bombshell,” he admits.  “I noticed she has been withdrawn, especially since her last car went up.”  He pauses, shrugging.  “I wish I would have asked her about it now, but I assumed she would bounce back, like always.”

I think back to the day of Steph’s latest car mishap.

 **Flashback**  

I had returned from my mission that morning, and I am looking forward to surprising Stephanie that evening.  I’m sitting at my desk, beginning to assimilate back into Rangeman when Vince rushes into my office reporting her trackers suddenly went offline just as Lester reports hearing her name on the police scanners.  The usual crew rushes out of the office and towards the site of the incident.  I drive in control but a shade under recklessly as I wonder just how many times she can walk away unscathed; if this was the time I would lose her forever. 

I smell the fire before I see it.  When I do see it, I swallow a lump as I don’t find my Babe during an initial scan of the site but do see a sheet covered gurney.  I make my way towards the ambulance with heavy feet before hearing Morelli yelling.  I turn my attention to him and see Stephanie sitting on the curb at his feet. 

I exhale in relief.  She is alive and breathing. 

I don’t care for Morelli’s temper or the way he constantly puts Stephanie down.  Easily ignoring him, I sit down next to Steph.  My eyes gaze up and down her body seeing no apparent injury. 

“Babe,” I say in a gentle tone.  She doesn’t move.  I stretch out my index finger and turn her head towards mine.

I vaguely hear Morelli huff, “I’m going to get some Tums.  I expect you’ll be at my place tonight,” before striding away.  She reluctantly looks me in the eyes, and I can see the impact the day has had.  The normally twinkling blue is replaced by deep, dull midnight.  She looks down. 

We sit like that for a long moment.  I know she hates to cry in front of me, so I give her space.  I’m so thankful she is alive.  “Would you like a ride?” I ask. 

Steph seems to bring herself to the present.  “Yes, thank you.  To Joe’s, please.”  She takes my offered hand.  We walk in silence.

In the car, I want to take her in my arms, but she turns and stares out the window.  Steph remains that way, lost once again in her own thoughts throughout the drive to Morelli’s.  Once parked outside, I take her hand.

“Babe.”  I try to soften my blank face.

Stephanie looks at me, and I can see she is fighting tears.  “I was chasing a skip, Emily Martin,” she beings quietly.  “I knew her well.  We were in the same class in high school.  Allegedly, her boyfriend had been verbally abusing her for some time, and one night, after a beer too many, he hit her.  She left, but when she came back home, he was balls deep in another girl, in their bed.  She shot both of them.  They’ll live, and she was charged with attempted murder.”  Stephanie pauses, her shoulders lowering.  She turns to look back out the window before continuing.  “I found her at her home.  She told me she would rather die before going back to jail.  She ran.  If I was better at my job, I could have stopped her there, but instead she made it down the block to my car.  I caught up to her as she threw a lighter in my gas tank.”  I hear her breath catch and turn her face gently back towards me.

It isn’t the tears running down her cheeks that catch my attention, but rather the unbridled, yet quiet sadness that seems to have consumed her body.  I wipe away a tear with my thumb. 

“I think everyone is right.  It is my fault.  I get people killed.”  She pulls her hand away.

I pause, considering my response.  It is true she should be better trained, and if she was, there would be fewer incidents such as this one.  That, however, is a conversation for another day.  Regardless, this responsibility is not hers.  I want to support her and help her find her strength again.  “It is not your fault Emily chose to commit suicide,” I say firmly.

After another silent moment where she seems to be gathering herself, I hear her whisper, “Good night, Ranger.  I’m so glad you are home again.”  The car door shuts behind her.

**End of Flashback**

I should have done more that day, and I won’t drive away from her again.  “I am going to intercept Stephanie.  Based on her current route and average speed, she will pass through Fayetteville around 1630.  It’s 1230 now,” I say, glancing at my watch.  “Tank, have the Rangeman plane ready to depart by 1400.  I’ll be there at 1330.  Have a car ready upon landing.  Lester, confirm Hector has the feed from her trackers uploading real time into my phone.  Alert me specifically to any important deviations.  Once I reach her position, I’ll let you know.  I plan on going offline sometime after that.  Bobby, drive me to the airport.  Depart at 1300.  Questions, comments, concerns?” 

With that, the meeting is adjourned, and I retreat to my office.  I don’t know how long I will be gone, so I gather some work materials and laptop to add to my overnight bag.  I am going to commit to Stephanie for as long as it takes to bring her home.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

 

**Stephanie POV**

Through all of the emotional turmoil and mental uncertainty of the past three months, I have strived to be my own Wonder Woman.  Yet it seems as much as I tried, the worse things have gotten.  Once I began to feel all those things I worked so hard to deny, I couldn't get it to stop.  It's why I had to leave.  I know I am going to fall apart, and, I pray, find a way to put myself back together again.  I don't want to do it in front of the entire Burg. 

I know Ranger can track me.  I was afraid if I ditched the trackers, he would spend a ridiculous amount of money and time to find me.  I don't want him to waste any more resources on me.  I can't handle being anyone's entertainment right now.  Regardless, I don't know if he will leave me alone or not.  He doesn't seem to want me except when he can't have me.  It makes sense.  I'm not good enough for him to commit to me.  Why be tethered to someone who is obviously not in his league?  A tear leaks by, but I furiously wipe it away.  Not yet. 

I cross into North Carolina.  A billboard advertising sweet tea looms ahead.  It makes me think of my mother.  I don't know why she feels we believe she is sipping iced tea constantly when we all know it's some of Tennessee's or Kentucky's finest spirits.  If I were to ask, she would say it's my fault, so I don't.  She lets me know enough of what she thinks. 

I know I've spent my life attempting to erase the sins of my youth.  We both know it's why I married the Dick.  I tried to be what she wanted.  I wanted her forgiveness for being Morelli's slut.  The day she found out about the Tasty Pastry incident was the worst.  If I'm honest what Morelli did then was worse, but the damage my mom inflicted was a close second. 

As the yellow lane divider lines flash before me, I drift back to that fateful evening.

**Flashback**

I'm 16 almost 17, and it is the summer before my senior year of high school.  The day began with the bright promise of an early June morning filled with warmth, freedom, and fun.  I have a job at the Tasty Pastry.  It's my dream summer job, and I am beyond excited to be able to earn the extra spending cash and have ready access to all my favorite treats.

It's a great day, and I'm developing a rhythm.  It's fun being able to anticipate the needs of the regulars and guess what treats the random customers will choose.  I'm beginning to clean up for the day when Joe Morelli comes in.  "Hey, Joe," I say with a smile.  He gives me a devastatingly handsome smile in return.  Joe is the most popular boy in school, and he is smiling at me!  Butterflies flap furiously in my stomach.

"Do you know I'm leaving for the Navy tomorrow?" he asks me, his eyes scanning my body. 

I blush and bite my bottom lip, "I've heard.  Which sweet treat would you like before your departure?  It's on the house," I ask innocently.

"What I want isn't in the case, it's behind it," Joe responds, his eyes getting darker as he moves around the counter. 

I'm wondering if he is going to kiss me.  I'm nervous but thrilled.  I can't believe he is thinking about me!  I remain cemented in place, getting the tingles of anticipation.  He places his hand on my waist, and slowly lowers his lips.  The kiss begins sweet but quickly becomes deeper, his tongue pushing through my lips.  No one has ever kissed me like this before.  His hands start to roam over my breasts before sliding under my shirt.  The butterflies sink in my stomach.

I attempt to take a step back.  Joe steps with me.  I'm nervous, and a little scared.  Does he know I'm a virgin?  I'm not sure I want my first time to be like this, as flattered as I am he seems so into me.  "Joe…" I try to begin.  "Relax," he murmurs into my ear.

"I don't want to lose my job," I blurt out.  "We shouldn't do this here.  I can meet you at Pino's later," I say quickly, hoping he doesn't outright reject me. 

"Don't worry.  It won't take long," Joe cajoles.

Just as I open my mouth to say no, he is kissing me again, and I find myself pushed to the floor.

At that moment, I froze.  My brain and limbs seem to be at war with each other.  This is happening.  True to his word, it didn't take long. 

"See you when I get back, Cupcake," he said over his shoulder, walking out of the bakery.

I scramble to the employee restroom to clean myself up.  I finish my end of day shift responsibilities, but I'm behind schedule.  I run all the way home despite how much my groin hurts.  It doesn't matter.  I want to be holed up in my bedroom, and I don't want to deal my mother's scrutiny.  As I quietly open the door, I know the effort didn't matter.  Stupid.  I smack my palm into my forehead.  I should have called.

"Stephanie Plum!  Where have you been?  You are an hour late!  What will the neighbor's think?  I'll tell you – they'll think I have a loose daughter, that's what!  Now get cleaned up for dinner before it gets any colder," my mother yells as I walk into the house.

I dare to hope that would be it.  I turn the shower on hotter than usual while scrubbing every inch of me as hard as I can.  Tears stream down my face, but I determinedly make no sound.  I had thought sex was supposed to be good.  I guess just not for me.  For me it was all sharp pain, jabbing discomfort and lingering aches.  I hope I can hide this and forget about it. 

I try to look like a good daughter, choosing my clothes carefully as I go to sit at the table.  It's empty save for my mother sitting, nursing an iced drink.  Her expression causes my breathing to stop.  She knows. 

"Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie."  She twirls the drink around in her hands.  "Heaven knows I have had my hands full with you.  I can't be that bad of a mother, because your sister is wonderful."  She takes a sip.  "No, it's you."  

I feel my stomach knot.

"While you were upstairs, I received three phone calls.  The only reason the phone isn't ringing now is that it is off the hook.  It seems the entire town knows why you weren't home for dinner tonight."  I look down at my hands, tightly clenched in my lap.

For the first time, mom starts to raise her voice.  "I TOLD you that Morelli boy was trouble."  Her hand loudly slaps the table.  "You didn't listen to me at six, and it seems ten years later, you haven't listened again.  You tainted yourself.  You are dirty.  Everyone will know you as the town bicycle; the girl any boy can get a ride on.  So easy.  You disgust me."  Whatever adolescent joy I have left in me dies.

"You are grounded.  You can't be seen around town.  You've already been fired from your job.  That was the third call.  You will spend your summer home.  I expect you to graduate next spring with marks high enough to go to college away from here.  Perhaps in a few years, you will have redeemed yourself enough to put this reputation you earned behind you."  She pauses to drain her cup.  "You are excused, and you better pray as you've never prayed before that you aren't pregnant."  The thought hadn't even occurred to me.  That began the longest three weeks of my life. 

**End of Flashback**

I'm grateful to this day I didn't end up pregnant.  It's why I'm such a stickler for condoms with Joe now.  That, and perhaps, a bit of mistrust.  I drive on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

Pulling into a gas station somewhere in North or South Carolina, I’m not sure where; I think about my mom and Joe.

I have spent years cultivating a deep hatred for Joe Morelli, and then I spent the last couple years attempting to undo that hatred.  I can say I even tried to love him.  Running him over with Big Blue was one of the real joys of my life, as was locking him in the back of the meat truck.  Both times I felt like I had some of my power and control back. 

My mother is thrilled with the idea of the two of us.  In her eyes, it makes me less of a slut.  Maybe even someone she could love again.  Redeemed.  I’ve gotten so used to feeling rejected that the idea of being accepted by my mother has probably done more to propel the relationship along than I want to admit. 

I walk into the seedy public restroom, covered with graffiti.  Messages to call, of love eternal, gang signs, and random swear words littered the walls.  Suddenly, my mind is back in a similar restroom in Trenton.

**Flashback**

It has been a difficult two and a half months.  First, there was discovering the bet from Michael.  Then, six weeks later, Emily took her life by using my car.  I've since replaced the car, but my mojo hasn't been as easy to fix.  I’ve been having a hard time with my skips after Emily.  I decided to take fewer cases, being more selective and veering towards my regulars and those who seemed low-hassle.  While I hate stakeouts, I’m doing my best to play my apprehensions safer and gather more intel, making a plan rather than simply rush in headlong.  I’ve been trying to remember everything Ranger taught me, and I’ve even been carrying my SW, loaded.  I thought about asking him for help, but for many reasons, I can’t.

I won't put myself in a position where I take from him again.  He's done too much already.  He may have said there is no price for what we do for each other, but that ledger had a lot of expenses on it.  His friendship is important to me.  I'm desperately afraid that if he were to see any more of my ineptitude, it could be the end of it.  As a result, I'm operating solo, attempting to improve myself.    

So, here I am on a stakeout and to help me stay awake, I had one too many Cokes.  There is no movement from inside the skip’s house, but if I didn’t move soon, there would be way too much movement from my exploding bladder.  I turn the car around and head to the nearest gas station.  The women’s restroom is out of order, so I hobble into the men’s room as fast as my closed knee walk can take me. 

While sitting on the throne, my eyes dart around to avoid thinking about how dirty and worn the stall is.  It has been a long time, if ever, since this bathroom has seen an update.  Suddenly, my eyes stop. 

 _Juicy, tart, and pink_  
This Plum would like you to think  
Her sex hasn’t had meat, but  
Stephanie’s my sweet treat  
Sloppy seconds are all you’d get  
But at least you know she’s already wet

_There’s no way you can fake_

_That she’s tastes like a Cupcake_

 

How is it that this poem is still around town?  How many more have survived?  I feel nauseous and run from the restroom.  I get in my car and drive aimlessly, thinking. 

I’m shocked.  I thought those stupid messages were long gone.  Does the past ever just stay in the past?

I reflect on the past several weeks.  I realize that for whatever reason, many of my worst memories, especially with Joe, seem to have unleashed themselves in my brain.  They are raw, ever present, and threatening to consume me.  I wish I knew how to file them away again, to forget and go back to the way things were.

Why did I let Joe back into my life?  Why am I with him?  Everyone I know seems to think it is natural.  My mom, Angie Morelli, hell, even Ranger.  But then again, I’ve never told Ranger the truth about my history with Joe.  I don’t think I’ve ever told myself the truth about what has happened between us.  Is a relationship between Joe and myself seen as natural because of who we are as a couple, or is it perceived to be inevitable because of everyone else’s perceptions on what a happily ever after should be?

I think part of me believes being with Joe excuses the past.  It's as though our current relationship allows me to wear rose-colored glasses when reviewing our history.

Joe is still one of the hottest guys in town, and certainly Chambersburg’s most eligible bachelor.  A part of me continues to be flattered that he would choose me.  Until recently, our sex life was amazing. 

Do I believe people can change?  Do I believe Joe has changed?  Do I believe he loves me?

Joe is waiting for me on the couch when I walk into my apartment.  "Hey, Cupcake!  The boys were hoping you’d be home.”  Ugh.  Not how I had wanted to be greeted by my boyfriend.

“Please Joe, no,” I start.  “It’s been a long day, and I’m not feeling it right now.”  Joe gets up and walks towards me.

As he stands before me, his face softens, and he surprises me with a hug.  It’s warm and long, and I melt into it.  This is one of the reasons we are together, the times when he holds me, helping me to feel safe and loved.  We walk with his arm around me to the couch, and I rest my head on his shoulder.  He is running his fingers along my sleeve.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.  I’m touched by his attentiveness.

I close my eyes.  “I’ve been struggling and down since Michael and Emily,” I confess, willing to broach some of what is on my mind, see where it goes.

“With all the crazies in your life, it’s no wonder,” he says.  “I know you think giving up your job and to settle down with a family scares you, but would it really be so bad?”

For the first time in a long time, this almost sounds reasonable.  I'm deeply appreciative of this tender moment.  Would our life together, without the drama my job causes, be like this?  Would I gain more than the freedom I think I'll be losing?

At that moment, Ranger flashes in my mind.  Deep down, I know with Ranger I wouldn’t be risking giving up anything.  He helps me fly.  If I’m honest with myself, I also know that Ranger makes me feel safe and loved, too.

“I don’t know,” I simply reply. 

Joe gives me his sexiest smile, saying “That’s the best answer you’ve given me yet!”

 As we settle into bed that evening, he moves to kiss me, slowly and then with more heat.  Bolstered by our evening together, I feel a greater desire for sex than I have these past couple months.  I kiss him back, and he rolls on top of me.  As much as I try to relax, to enjoy what should be pure pleasure, the events of the day crash down on me.  Between the poem, fresh in my mind and the heavy body on top of me, I am caught again in the memories and emotions of the past.  He strokes me intimately with his hand, and I’m in his father’s garage.  He thrusts inside me, and I’m on the floor of the Tasty Pastry. 

How did I get so broken?

When we finish, I excuse myself to shower, and once again, I feel the need to scrub myself hard while silent tears cascaded down. 

**End of Flashback**

I shake my head to get back into the present.  I get back in my car.  I don’t know where I am going to stop, but I’m not far enough yet.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Ranger POV**

Having landed in Fayetteville, I’m pleased to see a black Ford Mustang waiting for me.  It’s 1600 as planned.  I recheck the trackers and see Stephanie is 30 minutes ahead of me on I-95 and traveling between 85-90 mph.  I'm not catching her any time soon, but I won't be far behind when she stops either.

With the road looming long for an unknown distance ahead of me, I slip into my zone, as Steph calls it.  _Why am I doing this?_   The thought catches me by surprise.  I mean, it’s Stephanie.  My Babe.  Why wouldn’t I?  She’s the light to my darkness.  She’s my best friend. 

Deep down, I know it’s more than that.  As much as I don’t want to admit it, I know that I’m in love with her.  I’ve never loved anyone who wasn’t already family, and I’m afraid.  I didn’t love Rachel; she was a fling, a one-night stand.  I married her to give Julie legitimacy, so Rachel could have health benefits and access to my death benefits for Julie should something happen to me.  Stephanie came out of right field. 

She calls me her Batman.  It’s cute that she thinks of me as her personal superhero, but at some point, she will realize I’m human.  I’m a dark, flawed human who has seen and inflicted some of the greatest depravities humankind is capable of.  I don’t deserve her, and I will only end up as another person who hurts her. 

I think again of the last few weeks.  Lester, Bobby, and Tank are right.  Her light hasn't shone as brightly, and we've all been less as a result.  Steph is the only person who has managed to both understand and accept the men of Rangeman without prejudice.  She has time and time again put herself aside at the smallest opportunity to help one of us.  How have we returned that kindness?  More importantly, how have I?

Sure, I’ve always managed to be there to save her life.  Yes, we’ve had four incredible nights.  I shake my head at the memories.  I told her I would ruin her for other men, but she was the one who ruined me for other women.  Her kisses then to now have lifted my soul more than I care to admit.  But how else have I been there for her?  After that night, I sent her back to Morelli when she was ready to be mine.  I've made her feel as though she was entertainment when I failed to clarify that unfortunate accounting discovery.  I told her I am an opportunist, that my love came with a condom and not a ring.  Recently, I’ve noticed she was struggling, but I kept my distance.

Fuck.  I really am an asshole.  Mile marker after mile marker passed.

What if she is ready to be done with all this bullshit once and for all?  What if she wants to be done with me?  I know she isn’t with Morelli right now, but what if I’m next on the cutting block?  Can I blame her?  I’ve told her many times not now.  Wait for _someday_ I keep telling her.

I pass a sign indicating the turnoff to Charleston.  She’s the only person I’d want to take for a long weekend there, old Southern antebellum and charm.  I know I’ve been wasting time we could have been together having these adventures.  Perhaps, on our way back to Trenton we can stop over in Charleston, begin our someday together with a week-long getaway.

I watch the shadows become longer as the pink hues of evening slowly become the deeper purples and blues of dusk. 

Shaking my head, I confront one of the most touted reasons I’ve offered for keeping Steph away.  I have enemies.  It’s a fact.  It's not like it's mattered, though.  Her enemies and mine have been a constant feature regardless of how much I've held her at arm's length.  With each Scrog, Abruzzi, Orin, Stiva, or Ramirez, my primary defense has been weakened.  Whether or not we are in a declared relationship doesn't seem to matter that much to those who want to do us harm. 

My contract is up this year.  Regardless of how things turn out with Stephanie, it's time.  I can feel it in my bones, literally.  Fieldwork is the job of a younger man.  I need to move forward with my life.  So, what?  Why won't I give a relationship with Stephanie a chance?

I contemplate this as night’s darkness claims the last of the evening’s shadows.  Deep down, I know the answer.  It’s fear.  The word itself can barely whisper through me.  I am someone who absolutely refuses to ever acknowledge fear in any situation.  It’s how I am strong, how I survive.  Openly loving my Babe creates a vulnerability.  My heart is freely in her hands, and what she does with it is out of my control.  I’ve told her once before; she has all the power.  I don’t think she truly understands what that means.

It’s time for me to end the excuses.  Deep down, I know I have had a role to play in this exodus Steph has undertaken.  It’s time to take responsibility for my actions, or lack thereof. 

I sigh audibly now.  I decide to stop at the next station on the northern outskirts of Savannah.  Pulling over I check my phone and see Steph has managed to increase the distance between us.  It only serves to amplify the feeling I have she is running with abandon.  I hope I can catch her before she crashes. 

 

**Stephanie POV**

The sun has long set when I see a sign saying, “WELCOME TO FLORIDA!”  The lights of Jacksonville loom ahead.  It's after 10 at night, but I still can't stop.  Maybe it's the caffeine, or maybe it's the desperation.  I know I’ll have to stop eventually.  Hell, I’ll run out of road to drive if I keep going this way.  I turn towards St. Augustine.  I want to drive towards the ocean.  When I stop, it will be someplace where I can hear the waves. 

The blackness of the night makes me think of Ranger.  I still occasionally find it unbelievable my best friend is a battle-hardened hero who most people would instinctually dismiss out of fear at first sight, that is after they got over how incredibly gorgeous he is.  It was never that way for me with any the Merry Men.  I just never saw anything to be afraid of.  Sure, I see the scars and toughness, but I also see loyalty, determination, integrity, and courage.  They are undoubtedly the most exceptional people I know, Ranger first and foremost.

I know I’m in love with him.  I’ve known that since that first day in the diner.  I also know I’m not worthy of him.  I’m not beautiful enough, fit enough, smart enough, financially savvy enough; anything enough.  I used to think I was at least average.  I want to be Wonder Woman, but I think she got lost somewhere. 

In the back of my head, I know some of these problems could be surmounted with a bit of work on my part.  The problem is with the how.  Most of it would require Ranger’s help, and I simply can’t ask him.  He’s already spent so much time and money on me.  Yet, it’s more than that.  I try to cover up my ineptitude with my own creative style, ultimate success garnered mostly through tenacity and luck, and Jersey attitude.  I’m pretty sure if he realized just how much I suck, he would tell me the same thing as Joe – just quit.  It would break my heart if he did.  At least right now I have an occasional “Proud of you, Babe” to lift me up.  He’s the only one who has ever told me they are proud of me.  I can’t lose that. 

I turn onto A1A south of St. Augustine, and I’m greeted with a slower drive along the Atlantic coast.  I roll down my windows and let the salty breeze fill the car. 

I know I’ve settled on being something between a friend and a lover with Ranger.  There is unquestionably a spark between us.  His kisses in the alley, hands brushing my breasts when he places a wire before a distraction job, and the few times where we shared a bed bring a warmth to my body I didn’t know was possible.  He inexorably consumes me.  Joe has been comfortable, easy and fun.  Ranger made good on his promise.  I am ruined for all other men.  There really is no comparison. 

I know he sits in the chair in the corner of my bedroom to watch me sleep at night.  He has his reasons and is always respectful of me, so I let him think I’m sleeping.  It’s oddly intimate and comforting, and I’m left with the impression he uses that chair to chase some of his ghosts away.

Since he’s been back, however, I’ve avoided those moments.  I’ve slept all but two nights at Joe’s, and I know he visited those two nights.  While I’ve been coming to the realization things need to permanently end between Joe and me, I don't want Ranger to be caught in the middle.  I may be in a twisted love triangle, but the last thing I want is to give Joe an opening to use my friendship with Ranger against him in some way.

I think I’m also ashamed.  I frown further at the thought. 

As much as Ranger uses that chair to chase his ghosts, I think he may also have the superpower to see some of mine.  I haven’t been ready to face all the memories forcing themselves upon me recently, and I certainly can’t verbalize them all to another person.  If he saw how little I really sleep, it would push the conversation that I am driving all this distance to avoid.  For once I’m hoping I have the strength to exit denial land, break down, and put myself back together. 

When I finish this journey, I want to return a different person, a stronger person.  Someone who is willing and capable to stand up for herself, to give herself permission to pursue her dreams her way.  I want to have made some decisions that will make my life better.  I can’t continue the way things are. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

Even in the hypnosis of the road haze, I am taken by the beauty of the Florida coast along the A1A.  Lights bob and twinkle in the distance, and the moon glints off the horizon.  I've always found peace in the sound of the ocean waves, and when I fix on the point where the sea meets the endless horizon, I imagine the possibilities that lay just beyond.  Perhaps in another life, I was a mermaid.

I yawn.  I know I need to stop.  It’s after midnight as I see a sign for Daytona Beach.  I snort.  It would seem God has a sense of humor that my race away from the Burg would land me in NASCAR’s mecca.  I stop at an economy hotel with balconies facing the beach and yellow lighted words indicating there are vacancies. 

I park the car and get out, but I’m not ready to be done for the night.  First, I decide to get a room.  The lobby is small and worn, but clean.  It features a sun-faded art print on one wall of a palm tree in a bamboo frame, a padded aluminum-framed chair with yellowed foam peaking from the corner and a brochure bin with flyers colorfully advertising all the best deals on the best activities.  The night manager strides out from the back.  She has bleach blonde hair, a tan that gives her skin a prematurely aged and weathered appearance and enough mascara to make this Jersey girl proud.  Her uniform is a Bermuda shirt also featuring palm trees, nametag labeled Dawn.  “How many nights you planning on staying, Sweetie?” she asked with a voice rough from years of cigarette use.  

I hadn’t really considered this.  How long does it take for someone to have a mental breakdown?  “Four, but would I have the option of adding more if I want?” I ask.  She uses a fuchsia gel-tipped finger to tap the keyboard of the ancient booking computer.  “Sure thing.  Name?”  I want to give a fake, but as I could guess my movements had already been tracked, it seems stupid.  “Stephanie Plum,” I sigh in resignation before completing the rest of the check-in process.  I made sure I had a room facing the ocean.  

I wasn’t ready to sleep yet.  Sleep has been elusive these past couple months.  It’s a haunting, horrible ordeal I can’t make myself face easily.  I shuffled across the street where several businesses had late night hours.

The convenience store on the corner had narrow aisles, bars on the doors and windows and a height strip on the metal door frame to help ID a potential criminal on the run.  It was a beacon in the night with a half dozen neon signs in the windows featuring cheap smokes and lotto.  Next door was a discount liquor store. 

Roaming market, there wasn't anything I wanted to snack on.  I grabbed a box of Pop Tarts and ZzzQuil.  I figured I would get hungry eventually, and if sleep eluded me forever, a drugged trip to forced rest might be a good idea.

Exiting, I detoured to the liquor store next door.  I consider myself a one drink wonder but damn if a drink didn't sound pretty good about now.  Even better than the bottle of Z’s, I was totally okay with the fuzzy haze alcohol would bring.  It’s hard to feel a lot smashed.  Tonight, I decided to give denial land one last farewell party before letting it all crash down tomorrow.  I grabbed a bottle of Fireball, crossed the street to my car to snag my duffel bag and headed up to my room.  It was time to get this party started. 

 

**Ranger POV**

I stop at a gas station on the Florida-Georgia line around 2230.  I’ve been pushing myself driving, but I can’t seem to get any closer than 30 minutes behind.  I double check the map when I see she is now traveling on A1A south of St. Augustine.  My Babe is drawn to the ocean like a magnet. 

I’m worried about how long she has been driving.  It takes a lot of mental stamina or something propelling you internally to put in the miles she has today, and she hasn’t stopped yet.  Based on the pace, I’m not even sure if she is eating.  I hope she doesn’t get into an accident along the way and has the sense to stop soon.

On the road again, I increase my speed more than before as I attempt to catch up with her _.  What’s your plan when you get there?_   A thought worth pondering.  Her actions indicate a desire to be alone, and I don’t want to scare her off.  I decide to respect her independence and will attempt to put myself in a position where I can observe undetected, stepping in when my gut, heart or head tells me its time.  I meant what I told the Core Team.  I’m here for the long haul.  The unspoken truth is I’ll follow that woman to the ends of the earth if it means having her in my life.

 _But what’s your plan?_ The little voice beckons again.  I love her.  I’m willing to do anything for her.  _Except give her your heart._   I feel my breath catch, and I frown, tightening my grip on the steering wheel. 

What do I want when I hopefully bring Steph back to Trenton with me?  To send her back to Morelli again?  _No!_   Keep things the way they are?  No.  Stephanie has been avoiding me, and I haven’t gone out of my way to interact with her.  The best I’ve been able to hope for these past two months is to sit in a chair in the dark corner of her room or to meet up in the Bonds office.  Even there, she’s avoided any advances on my part to steer us to the alley.  What if she doesn’t want more than the friendship I’ve offered her anymore?  Could I blame her?

 

I know before I can move forward with Stephanie, I need to figure out what I’m willing to offer her in return. I can give her my love, my body, my money, but can I give her my heart, all of it?  Can I offer her a ring, that commitment that she’s engrained to want from me?  Am I truly opposed to having another child should that be something Steph wants?  I know friends with benefits won’t work with my Babe, but can I give her want she needs?

 

Shaking my head, I know it is time for me to man up.  I need to hurdle this uncertainty, bridge the distance between us.  It’s true she might reject me, but somehow, I don’t think she will.  I must muster the courage to allow her the opportunity to take my heart or break it.

 

I’m pulled out from my contemplation with a text alert from Lester.  He reports Stephanie has checked into a motel using her credit card in Daytona Beach, address included.  I’m 20 minutes behind her.  I text him to have the adjacent room booked for me, key card waiting at the front desk. 

I see Steph’s car in the parking lot and deliberately park in a far corner where I can observe the lot, lobby and nearby businesses undetected.  Rather than jump out, I cut the lights and engine and use the next couple of minutes to gather intel about my surroundings. 

The nearby properties seem weathered but not downtrodden.  There is public beach access from the adjacent street between the hotels.  There are all the regular convenience stores, restaurants, and bars one would expect in a tourist community.  I see movement across the street, and I'm surprised to see Stephanie stepping out of the liquor store.

In all the time I've known her, she has never used alcohol as the cure-all I've seen exhibited in others, even myself on occasion.  Whatever is bothering her is more significant than I thought, and I'm glad I decided to be here.  I watch her walk to her car before climbing the stairway on the outside of the motel to the third story entrance.  She keeps her head low, shoulders down, and is shuffling her feet.  I’m not able to see her face until she reaches the stairway landing.  She pauses to look at the ocean, and as she turns, I swallow hard at a glimpse of her face.  There is none of the spark, the smile or the general joy that usually permeates her caring soul.  _Babe, what’s wrong?_

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

I dropped my bag on the first of two queen beds filling the room.  The single A/C unit rumbled and blew, doing nothing to lessen the ever-present humidity.  The bathroom had a slight mildew odor that not even a daily bleach-based wipe down by housekeeping could hide.

I grab a cup from a convenience items tray in the bathroom and pushed the cheap, almost clear plastic glass out of its cellophane wrapper.  I pull the polyester blanket covered in an ostentatious display of palm trees and wrap it around myself, snagging the Fireball on the way.  I shuffle to the balcony and stand there, staring out at the ocean.

The porch itself is a small piece of real estate.  It has solid walls giving the illusion of privacy from one balcony to the next.  The wall itself was set at an angle, smaller at the ceiling, the bottom squaring off to connect with the safety railing.  The walls were made of off-white stucco, the rails of steel pipe painted white and chipping away at places.  There were two dingy white patio chairs with a small circular table separating them in one corner chained to the wall.  On the opposite corner is a single white lounge chair with two-inch support stripes wrapped around the frame, also fastened to the wall.  I settle in the lounge chair and pour myself my first drink.

I down it, grimacing slightly and then relaxing as the burning in my throat turns into warmth spreading out in a numbing relaxation.  I pour a second and think about last night.

**Flashback**

It has been a miserable two weeks, plagued with nightmares.  I can’t shake the feeling that Joe isn’t telling me the whole truth about the bet, and I can’t seem to quiet the memories freely bounding around my brain.  Joe and I had not had sex since the last time at my apartment.  The corners of my heart that once loved him have slowly been closing themselves off, and I knew it was for good this time.  I was ready to get some answers.

I am waiting for Joe in his living room when he arrives home from work.

“Cupcake!” He smiles his Italian Stallion smile at me.  “The boys sure have been missing you,” he says, waggling his eyebrows while grabbing a beer.  He pulls me onto the couch beside him while slinging an arm around my shoulders.  I sit stiffly beside him. 

“Do you remember the day I picked up Michael Bruno?”  I ask.  Sensing the seriousness of my mood, he removes his arm from around my shoulders and takes a swig of his beer.  “While watching the Phillies game, we had time to catch up on the good ole days.”  I pause, turning to look him directly in the eyes. 

“Tell me about the bet.”

Joe grimaces but quickly recovers his confidence.  “That old thing!  We both know I was a little wild in my youth, but you can’t hold that against me now.  I thought we were past all this, Cupcake.  Is that what’s been keeping you from our usual romps between the sheets?”

I’m stunned at how easily he lies to me.  I try to keep my emotions from getting the best of me, pressing on, “Then why is the pot collecting interest in a bank account to this day?”

This time he doesn’t try to hide his surprise.  “No one ever collected on it, and I figured it was forgotten about.  It’s been so long.  Now come on, let’s put all this behind us,” he says, moving a hand up my thigh. 

“No, Joe.  It isn’t behind us.  You know how I feel about the betting about my professional life going on at the police station.  You know I hate it.  How do you think we can move forward when I know our entire relationship has been built around a bet?  I’m having a hard time trusting you!”  I’m in complete rhino mode now. 

“You’re being dramatic,” he begins.  “It’s nothing.  All in the past.  Let’s get back to the present,” he continues, moving his hand to the neckline of my shirt, fondling my breast roughly on the way.

“No!” I shout, pushing back quickly.  His hand remains in place, and my shirt rips open, revealing my black push up bra.  “This is not okay, and it is not in the past!” 

I stand up now, moving away from Joe.  He has a dark look on his face, and I begin to feel afraid.  I need to leave this place, but I also need a shirt.  I can only imagine the gossip if I were to run out of here in my bra. 

“Oh, so you trust Michael more than me, huh?  He told you I need to marry you to win, right?  Do you really think the work to have a relationship with you is worth a few measly dollars?  And if it was, why would I keep letting you break up with me?  It doesn’t make sense.  The truth is, we both know you are hooked on me, that I’m the best you’ve ever had.”  Joe’s tone was low and deliberate.  As he speaks, I am backing up, towards the wall near the stairs. 

He continues forward, trapping me against the wall.  I could feel his cock through his pants throbbing harder than I’ve ever felt it.  He pushes roughly against my sex, causing pain as he begins to gyrate.  Joe lowers his head to whisper into my ear, “I was your first, and I’ll be your last.”   

I feel my fight or flight instinct kick in.  Acting on adrenaline, I slam my knee roughly into his groin.  He doubles over, groaning in pain.  I grab his dirty Trenton PD t-shirt laying on the end of the stairs and pull it over my head as I find my purse.  Saying nothing, I bolt from the house.

Once I get into my apartment, I lock the door and shove a chair under the knob.  He is not getting in here that easily tonight.  I take the t-shirt off, flinging it into the corner.  At this point I begin to shake, feeling the adrenaline crash.  I get into the shower, attempting to wash away the feeling of his touch.  I am nauseous, and my breathing is unsteady.  I want to cry and scream, but I will away all those feelings, digging deep to gain control.

I pull on Ranger’s t-shirt and my yoga pants, not wanting to be in just my panties if someone comes over tonight.  I take my SW out of my cookie jar, load it and place it on my bedside table.  I might not be a skilled fighter, but in my nocturnal paranoia, I’m not going to be unprepared. 

I lay down in my bed, on my back, assuming my favorite thinking position.  I barely feel safe, and certainly not safe enough to process all the feelings that are threatening to overtake me.  I am not going to lose it where I won't have the freedom and space to handle everything and then make a new plan for my life.  I am going to leave before I allow myself to break down.  _Drive._ It is the last thought I have as I drift into an uneasy sleep.

**End of Flashback**

Pondering all this, I take another shot.  It’s a hard thing to realize that when you gave your love away and thought you were being loved, it was never actually returned.  I feel myself thoroughly break, and it's a relief to not hold it all together anymore.  I take one last drink before returning to the bed, passing out with tears streaming down my face.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

I’m walking.  The path is crowded; I can’t distinguish one person from another.  All that surrounds me is a din of voices, a dull roar.  I let myself be carried by the masses.

_Embarrassing._

The word whispers through the roar of the crowd. 

_Failure._

It comes from another direction. 

_Disappointment._

I’m swiveling my head rapidly, never able to find the origin.

I move without purpose, carried by the masses.  The words are so quiet I can barely make them out, yet it is the only thing I can hear over the progressively larger and louder mass.  Repeating again and again, the words rise like a chant, gaining in intensity and volume.

_Embarrassing.  Failure.  Disappointment._

I want to cover my ears, but my arms seem glued to my sides.  I feel a hand reach out and brush my elbow.  Then another on my waist.  I attempt to find a way out of the crowd, but the more I push, the more they push back.

A brush against my breast.  A grab of my bottom.

My breathing picks up as I fight the urge to panic.  I try to look more intently at faces, hoping to see someone who will help me. 

Hands are beginning to pull and tug at my clothing, and suddenly, I gasp in recognition.

The Slayers step out from the crowd.  Ramirez presses in on another side.  There’s DeChooch and Uncle Sunny.  Scrog.  So many enemies. I turn away as their hands reach out, grabbing, pulling.  Ahead of me, I see familiar faces from the Burg.  There’s my mother, Joyce Barnhardt, the Dick, Terry Gillman, Valerie, Joe. I attempt to reach them.  As I get closer, I hear them chanting.

 _Embarrassing.  Failure.  Disappointment._  

They reach out their hands, and the crowd consumes me.

I scream.

I’m out of bed, lurching, heaving.  I don’t know if it is from the alcohol or the dream.

 

**Ranger POV**

I enter my room, sweep it cautiously and make sure the space is secure.  I see there is a door connecting our rooms.  I inspect it.  While there is no knob to Stephanie's side, it will be simple work for me to remove the faceplate and access the locking mechanism if necessary.  I move to the patio and silently stand to the side, ensuring Steph would have no chance to see me should she be near the rail.

Listening, I can hear the liquid being poured into a cup.  I sit in the corner chair, staring out at the horizon.

As I wait for her to go inside, I contemplate my next move.  How long should I remain hidden?  Without visual confirmation, I am reasonably sure the repetitive pours I hear are from her liquor store purchase.  I don't want to scare or startle her while she is intoxicated.  Tonight, I will monitor but keep my distance unless there is a threat.  I'll observe through tomorrow and make a move if there is an opportunity.  Pending a natural opening, I'll create my own the following day.  

Stephanie always seems to have a Spidey sense regarding my presence, and while I’ve never told her, I do to her as well.  We have a connection.  I suspect she will figure out I am here without doing much besides waiting.

An hour passes, and the damp, night air has settled on me with a chill.  I’m concerned at the number of pours I’ve heard.  I hope she puts down the bottle and chooses to go to bed soon. 

There's movement, and through the sounds of rustling and the door, I hear the irregular breathing of silent sobs.

The door closes, and I move to peer around the balcony edge.  The sliding door isn’t fully closed, and I watch as she stumbles to her bed, tangled in the blanket before collapsing.  It doesn’t take long before her breaths even out in the rhythm of sleep.

I easily vault the angled barrier between our balconies.  A cup is laying on its side, a half-empty pint of whiskey beside it.  I slide the door open enough to allow me to move through and ease it closed again.  I move to the door between our rooms, unlocking it and ready to slip through should she begin to sense my presence.

My heart bursts at the sadness on her face.  While I don’t know if she will be happy to find me here, I will never regret coming.  I just wish I could take this burden from her. 

Steph begins to moan in her sleep and move about.  It’s clear she is having a nightmare.  She’s mumbling, and as the intensity of her thrashing increases, I can begin to make out words.  Embarrassing.  Failure.  Disappointment.  I frown, and my eyebrows knit together. 

All at once, Stephanie lets out a terrified scream, bolts up in bed and runs to the bathroom.  I freeze, then melt into the shadows.  I can hear her throwing up.  I desperately want to go to her, but in this mental state, I decide I will likely do more harm than good.  The best thing I can do is to ensure she is safe and help her face the fallout tomorrow.    I hear the running of water, and I disappear behind the door separating our rooms, but not closing it entirely so I can continue to monitor her.

Leaning against the wall, I hope for answers in the light of tomorrow.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

I groan as I blink back against the morning light.  My throat feels raw, and my head is pounding.  I unwrap myself from the sheets and stumble to the bathroom, choosing to ignore any interaction with the mirror.  I relieve myself, splash water on my face, and drink a couple glasses of water.  Thankfully, I’m already feeling better.  I pad back into the room, digging in my bag for toiletries and clean underpants.  There is nothing quite like clean underpants to change a girl’s outlook.

My stomach growls, but there is no way I’m leaving this room, even for food.  My eyes land on the Pop Tarts, and I begin to nibble.  Some decisions I make are better than others.  Brushing my teeth, I turn on the shower.  Shedding my clothes quickly, I sigh in relief under the water.  The constant stream acts like a baptismal font, washing away the sins of yesterday.  While I don’t feel great, I’m ready to begin sorting through my life.

I dress, make a cup of coffee, grab the other Pop Tart and move out to the porch.  I settle at the table and take in my environment.  The coffee is warm in my hands.  The ocean is a dull roar.  The air smells salty and fresh.  The wind blows lightly and ever so chill in the morning breeze.  I steadily breathe in and out.  Staring at the waves, I attempt to sort my thoughts.

There have been countless memories flooding me lately, and it’s left me completely unsettled.  I’m questioning my relationships, decision making, safety, and even my sanity.  That’s when I’m awake!  The night is often worse.  I’m exhausted to the core of my being.

The nightmares need to stop.  I haven’t slept a whole night in months.  I’m convinced just sleeping would improve my mental health.  The desire to reclaim the night is almost a desperation of its own.  As I sip my coffee, I find my hand moving unconsciously to the back of my neck. 

As I rub, I think back to last night.  Drinking to my limit, throwing up, knowing I was past my limit, and stumbling back to bed.  I abruptly straighten my posture, almost spilling my coffee in the process.  Son of a bitch.  I wasn’t alone.  He’s here. 

I’m suddenly furious.  Everything I do is tracked, monitored.  So much for not having an audience for my breakdown.  Nothing I do is private.  Nothing!  I can’t even travel a thousand miles and have a night to myself free from judgment and observation.  Enough!

I stride towards my bag and pull out my SW before ripping open the door separating me from the adjacent room.  I level my weapon in stare into Ranger’s eyes.

He looks surprised for a second, and then the blank face slams into place.  His hands are up slightly, his body still, tense, and ready to react. 

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” I yell.  “What do you want from me?”

He never breaks eye contact.  “Babe,” he starts, then pauses.

“Not good enough,” I growl.  “Do NOT Babe me right now.  What are you doing here?  Have you come to take me home?  Did you choose to come yourself, or did someone ask you to come?  You know what, I’m not even sure it matters.  The bottom line is you wasted a trip because I'm not going back until I decide I’m ready.”  I don’t lower my weapon.  The king of the one-word answers will need to start talking.

Rangers blank face suddenly disappears, and I'm confronted with more unspoken words than he has ever shown me.  There's concern, compassion, and love?  I narrow my eyes, not trusting what I see.

“I’m here to be with you.  I followed you because there is no place else I’d rather be.”  Ranger's words are soft, gentle.

I unblinkingly stare at him, but my arms begin to drop.

Ranger continues, “I knew from the moment I read your note something was wrong.  I also know I should have been there for you months ago.  I can’t change the past, but I can do something about the future.”  He begins to slowly inch towards me, his eyes never breaking contact with mine.

“Babe, let me in.  Let me help you.”

With that, my anger dissolves, and I collapse in a heap of gut-wrenching sobs, crying like I’ve never cried before.  In a second, Ranger has taken my revolver, and he’s on his knees beside me.  I pull myself into a ball, my face and fists on the ground.  I’m completely overwhelmed; I’m consumed by the force of my emotions.  He lifts me up. 

We settle onto the bed, and I sob deeply into his chest.  Every feeling from when I was six until today, every moment of shame and vulnerability, embarrassment and failure, all the realizations of not being loved are poured out from me.  I feel him rubbing my back, stroking my hair, and murmuring quietly in Spanish.  The actions ground me, and I begin to feel safer than I ever have. 

I make no attempt to speak or justify myself.  It’s enough to be here.  As my sobs lessen, fatigue overtakes me, and I fall asleep in Ranger’s arms, gripping his wet shirt.  My last thoughts are how grateful I am he is here.

 

**Ranger POV**

I’m sitting in the stiff corner chair.  My hands are resting at the arms, and I’m considering how my day will go.  I know I should let Steph make the first move, but since I've come to realize how much I love her, I'm struggling to keep my distance.  I have the door between our rooms open on my side, and it is only through years of highly developed discipline that I'm not currently pushing her door open.  I will get one chance at a first impression; I don't want to blow it.

Suddenly, the door I'm staring down opens so hard it bounces off the wall before settling back again.  I'm reflexively on my feet adapting combat ready posture.  I'm in the process of pulling out my Glock when my brain catches up to tell me it's Stephanie pointing her weapon at me.  I pause, deciding not to pull my own gun.  By the look on her face, I can see she is angry, but beneath it, I see a flash of uncertainty.  I don’t want to do anything to agitate her mental state further.  Regardless, I’m in close enough range where I could physically disarm her in a second if I needed to.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?” she yells.  “What do you want from me?”

I maintain eye contact.  “Babe,” I say, then pause.  I’m trying to decide how best to not screw this up when she confronts me with direct abandon.  It’s clear she was hoping to be left alone, but I can also see she is vulnerable and afraid.  That’s when it hit me.  She wants to know she can trust me.  

I immediately drop my blank face.  I’m surprised she can’t figure out why I’m here.  I’ve been nothing if not exceedingly attentive to her physical safety.  I know it’s more than that.  I decide to show her how much she means to me and to trust her with my heart. 

"I'm here to be with you.  I followed you because there is no place else I'd rather be," I say in a soft voice.

I can see she is beginning to crack.  I desperately want to hold her in my arms, but it will be much better for us if she chooses to drop the weapon.  I keep talking to her as her arms waiver.  I’m moving forward slowly, closing the remaining distance between us. 

I’m a foot away.  The hurricane churning through her blue eyes breaks my heart.

“Babe, let me in.  Let me help you.”  I’m holding my breath.

At once I see her defenses fall, and she collapses.  At last, I'm beside her.  I click the safety on her SW, stow it in my pocket and take a quick glance around her room to ensure there wasn't another immediate reason she would be carrying her revolver loaded.  I'm not sure she has ever carried her gun loaded without it being at my insistence before.  _What have I missed?  How did I not see what was going on with her?_

Her sobs are so raw they threaten to rip my own soul apart.  Anything I have to offer, anything I am I would freely give her to lessen this burden.  I hope at this moment my presence is enough.  I lift her from the ground, cradling her heaving form in my arms.  She’s lighter than I remember, and I frown further. 

We lay together on the bed, and I try to comfort her.  Stroking her back and hair, I softly murmur in Spanish, “Mi amor, ¿por qué te duele? Estoy aquí para ti.  Te quiero, y nunca me iré de nuevo.  Quiero ayudarte.  Espero tenerte como mi esposa algún día.  Quiero vivir contigo y ser tu alma gemela.  Tuviste mi corazón desde la primera vez que nos conocimos.  Querida, calma.  Shhhh….”I intend to tell her these words when she will understand them soon.  Little by little her sobs lessen, and Steph drifts off to sleep.  Even in sleep, she seems to be tense and maintains a grip on my shirt.  The grip she has on my heart is tighter. 

 

_(My love, why do you hurt?  I’m here for you.  I love you, and I will never leave again.  I want to help you.  I hope to have you as my wife someday.  I want to live with you and be your soulmate.  You had my heart from the first time we met.  Dearest one, calm.)_

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Ranger POV**

I watch through the blinds as the sun rises to its apex and down again as Steph lays beside me.  She seems utterly exhausted, but it’s not a peaceful sleep.  Her jaw remains locked as she sleeps with her hands in fists.  I had a sense her body had chosen sleep, but not her mind.

Holding her, I considered what I know.  I know she is trying to get away from one or more people in the Burg area.  I know that whatever it is that is bothering her has been building since at least, and more likely before my return.  I know she has been withdrawn from her friends and family.  I know she hasn’t been eating as well.  Her current actions border on desperation.  She is having a difficult time trusting people.  I’m concerned about her overall mental health. 

I know I love her.  I’m kicking myself for not being a better friend and making more of an effort at being in her life.  I will undoubtedly be working to remedy that situation now.

As the shadows grow long, Steph wakes with a start beside me.  She immediately rolls to the side of the bed with a wide-eyed look.  I sense panic.  I remain still, not wanting to frighten her.

“Babe,” I say softly.  The nickname has always worked to connect us.  “It’s okay.”  I never break eye contact.

Stephanie seems to waiver, working to regain her sense of order.  She sags slightly and says, “You’re still here.”  I think she is surprised, but the words themselves sound dejected. 

She stands, smooths her clothes with her hands and begins to walk towards the bathroom.  Steph takes three steps and pauses.  I tense slightly, getting ready to move.  Her hand moves to her stomach as she takes another step.  She wobbles, and I’m on my feet as she crashes to the ground.  I catch her before her head hits the floor.

Steph groans and mumbles, “I don’t feel very good.”  I lay her on the bed again and grab the trash can from the corner should she throw up. 

On the way, I notice the half-eaten Pop Tart.  “Babe, when was the last time you ate?”  I ask.

Stephanie is ashen and sweating.  She mumbles something about not being sure when her last meal was, two or three days ago, maybe.  _Shit._   I pour a cup of water and grab the leftover Pop Tart for her.  I encourage her to take small sips and bites, letting it settle gradually.  I flip open the motel information folder and pick up the flier for local pizza delivery.  I use my persuasive voice to encourage speedy delivery.  I have no doubt this pie will be here in under 30 minutes.  

Steph eases herself into a seated position on the bed, using my arm as support.  I continue to kneel beside her.  I reach out to take her hand, and I’m relieved she doesn’t pull away.

“Babe,” I start.  “Rest, we will sort this out.  Food will be here shortly.”  I'm sure she is dehydrated and undernourished.  I continue to push water every couple of minutes, refilling the cup periodically.  If she can't keep liquids and food in, I will have to suggest a trip to the local clinic.  I already know how well that suggestion would be taken.  

We sit together in quiet silence for another moment until I hear a knock.  A minute later, I’m offering her a breadstick.  Adding to my growing list of concerns, Steph eats silently and shows no overt satisfaction towards her food.  I quickly eat a couple slices of pizza.  Steph makes no comment about my dinner selection as she usually would.  I find myself missing her sarcastic quips.  While I don’t outwardly show it, she cracks me up inside.  Sometimes I pick the healthiest choice around her just to see her reaction.  In the end, Steph eats only a small amount before promising to try again later.  I plan on holding her to it.

Steph looks at me, embarrassed, saying, “Would you please help me to the restroom?  I’m not sure I want to try it alone again.”

"Babe, anything for you.  Don't hesitate to ask," I attempt to reassure her.  I want to carry her, but I can sense it would damage whatever she has left of her pride.  Instead, I put my arm around her waist, and we make progress with her leading the way.  "Would you like me to stay?"  I inquire.

She looks down, "No, thank you.  I won't be long."

“Take all the time you need.  I’m in no hurry.  I’m here for you, Babe,” and I again hope she catches the double meaning I wish to impart.

Once finished, we settle on her bed again.  I continue to encourage her to hydrate, and we otherwise sit in companionable silence as the light filtering through the blinds fades from pink to deep purple.

I turn my head towards hers as she quietly says, “You shouldn’t be here on my account.  You have a business to run, and I’ve cost you enough already.  I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

My heart is breaking at the flatness of her voice.  I was stupid for passing those careless comments.  I should have never made her feel like an expense.  "Babe, you have never been and will never be a waste of my time.  I am here because you are my priority.  I've done a lousy job of showing that to you lately.  I'm sorry.  There really is no price for what we do for each other."

A lone tear drifts down Steph’s cheek.  I wipe it lightly with my thumb.  “But there is,” she insists.  “I’ve seen it.”

I sigh, and it catches her attention.  “I was wrong to have left it that way.  I should have never lead you to believe you were entertainment.  It’s true you have an unorthodox methodology to skip tracing and capture, but no one can dispute your results.  What you have achieved is remarkable throughout the bounty hunting community, and you have incredible instincts.  On top of that, you have risked your life on more than one occasion for me, my daughter, my men, and my company.  Your loyalty and self-sacrifice should only be treated with the highest regard.  While I did need to account for certain expenses, there is no excuse for it being tallied in the ‘entertainment’ line.  I will say it again, I’m sorry.”

Stephanie seems to consider everything I've said.  Looking at her hands, she begins, "Ranger, I don't think I have anything to forgive, but since you've asked, of course you are.  I didn’t come here so you could go on a wild goose chase.  I have many reasons for taking this trip and for doing it alone.”

I grow still, and I desperately hope she isn’t sending me away again, not that she can make me go.

“This isn’t going to be a booty call or sneaky kisses with Stephanie kind of weekend.  I know you are in this as a friend with benefits, no-attachments basis.  I can’t give that to you right now, and I’m not ready to talk about it.  What I can do is ask you again.  Why are you here?  What do you want from me?” Steph finishes quietly, her voice breaking at the end.

I’m struck by how dejected Stephanie sounds.  I deeply regret my previous actions and words and the role I have had in this situation.  At this point, I’m relieved she doesn’t seem to want to turn me away.  I will do whatever it takes to convince her that the only place I want to be is by her side. 

I turn and fully engulf her body in a hug, held long and tenderly, slowly rubbing her back.  I speak quietly, pouring as much of my heart as I can into my words.  “You are my best friend.  As much as I tried to put forward a front to protect both of us, I’ve known for a while I’ve fallen for you.  Since the first day in the diner, I haven’t been with anyone else.  Our few nights are some of my most cherished memories, and it’s gotten me through my own rough times.  I’ve given you a lot of excuses, and I’ve pushed you away.  I’m here now, and I intend to be part of your life for the rest of mine.  I would like to right my wrongs.”

Stephanie pulls back from my arms just enough to look in my eyes, her own blue ones wide and rimmed with tears.

I continue, “I love you, _Querida_.  I promise to be there for you now and forever,” I’m holding my breath, searching her face for a reply.  Tears are silently dripping off her lashes.

“You love _me_?  Why?”  The last word is a whisper.  I hug her tightly to me again, and I ache as the self-depreciation of her question.   

“Babe, you are my light.  You’ve brought joy to the darkest corners of my being.  You have a zest for life, show genuine kindness to everyone, and retain the ability to be compassionate where most people would turn away.  You are intelligent, funny, and loyal.  You are easily the best person I know.  I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and I’ve been a fool for keeping you on the edges for as long as I have.”

I'm not sure I've convinced her, but she isn't pulling away.  In fact, she has sagged against me completely, and I'm supporting her full weight.  Her body is racked in sobs.  Through the tears, I hear her mumbling to herself, "I'm not good enough.  This can't be true.  But, but…" her words fade as her sobs increase.  I hold her, and we rock back and forth slightly.  I rub her back.  I need her to calm down, so she doesn't make herself sick.  I’m also using the motion to keep myself calm.  How can my Babe be convinced she is anything less than incredible?  I may have had a part to play in her exodus, but my gut tells me there is more to this situation.

Her breathing slows, and as her eyes close, Steph whispers in my ear, “I love you, too.  Please don’t leave me.”

With her confession, my heart soars.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Stephanie POV**

I’m lying in Ranger’s arms.  He said he loves me.  My eyes are closed, and the warmth of his presence is working to break down some of the barriers I’ve built to protect my heart.  Do I believe him?  I have every reason not to believe him.  Part of this journey, however, is to start being honest with myself.  I desperately want to believe him.

I whisper, “I love you, too.  Please don’t leave me.”

I feel Ranger relax against me, and he kisses the top of my head.  I’m still crying, but it's a mixture of relief, sadness, pent-up emotion, and even a little joy.  

Ranger says in a husky voice, “Babe, I’m grateful you love me in return.  Thank you for trusting me.” 

I'm overwhelmed.  I've never heard Ranger say so much as this evening.  He may be a man of few words, but those were well-chosen words.  "Thank you for opening up to me," I say.  My sobs are lessening, and I'm drawing strength from his presence.  I'm tightly gripping his shirt.  I think I'm a little afraid if I let him go, I'll find out this was all a dream.

“I will work to be that way with you more,” he says. 

I shift in the bed, maintaining physical contact.  I’m starving.  I reach for some food and water, and Ranger is quick to help me.  I’m embarrassed by my display of physical weakness earlier.  “I’m sorry for nearly passing out on you,” I say between bites.  “I didn’t mean for you to have to take care of me.”

Ranger looks at me intently, “You never have to apologize for me helping you.  You have always gone above and beyond for me.  It is what friends do for each other; it’s what I do for the people I love.  I love you, Stephanie Plum.” 

I don't know what to say, so I look away and take another swig of water.  I finish eating and excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up.  I wash my hands, rinse my face and restore minimal order to my ponytail.  I still look pale and puffy, but it's the best I can do.  Finishing up, I walk out to the balcony and lean against the rail, looking out at the ocean glimmering in the moonlight.  Ranger moves beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me next to him.

“Will you tell me why you are here?” he asks.  “Please, Babe.”

There it is.  The magic word I can never refuse.  I wrap my arms around myself in a hug, but mostly in a physical attempt to hold myself together.  I need to be strong.  I turn to sit in the chair but continue to face the ocean.  Looking into his eyes while baring my soul is too hard.

"First, I need to know you won't react and take some type of immediate action, no matter what I tell you.  I'm not revealing my life to you so you can fix it.  I need a friend and a confidant.  Can you do that for me?"  I say this sharply, wanting to convey how important this is to me.  I can't work through my feelings and worry about his actions.

I glance over and see him frown from the corner of my eye.  He hesitates before replying, “I am here for you.  I won’t do anything without talking to you first.  I want to listen and hear what you have to say.”  Okay, I think.  I can do this.

I stare out again, gathering my inner strength and courage.

"I'm here because I've never been able to face the truth about my life and the consequences the actions of others and myself have had on it.  I've denied, twisted the truth, and chosen to believe others over myself.  Despite my best efforts, the truth has been a wrecking ball inside me the past few months, and I need to let it finish its work of breaking me down.  Ultimately, I didn’t come as a pity party, but to figure out how to rebuild,” I start.  I’m determined not to cry, and I keep my voice low and flat.  To his credit, Ranger sits silently.

“When I was six years old, Joe invited me into his father’s garage to play a game he called choo-choo.  He considered himself the train, and me, the tunnel.  I naïvely believed him.  He molested me that day.  I didn’t understand the experience, and when I confided in my mother, she told me I was a bad girl who deserved it for not listening to her warnings.  I believed her.  You are the first person I have told since that day.”  My breath catches, and I take a moment to calm myself.  My heart is beating rapidly.  

“Do you know about the infamous Tasty Pastry incident?”  I pause and glance at Ranger to see him shake his head no.  I thought I told him the story, but I guess he doesn’t remember it.  I continue, “When I was sixteen and working at Tasty Pastry, Joe came in one night.  I was there by myself, closing up the bakery.  He came behind the counter, and we had sex.  The next day, he left for the Navy.  Everyone believed I was another Burg girl smitten with the Italian Stallion.  The messages he left around town, which I recently discovered still exist, only serve to promote this image.  Since seeing one of his messages first hand a few weeks ago, I've started to have intense and unrelenting flashbacks.” 

I collect myself, digging deep to say the next words out loud.  I’ve fixed my eyes on a fleck of paint on the railing.  My elbows are on my knees, and my hands are under my chin, white-knuckled fingers laced together.  I continue with a low voice.

“The truth is, he raped me.  I've never said it aloud, and I think this is the first time I'm even fully admitting it to myself.  I told him, no, and he persisted.  He took advantage of my crush and took it farther than I wanted.  His actions cost me my job, my reputation and anything I had left of my mother’s acceptance.”  I can’t do anything to stop the lone tear that falls down my face.  My rigid body is shaking at the intensity of relating these stories.

I pause, attempting to straddle the line between memories and the present.  My voice begins to shake as I remember the aftermath of that night.  “My mother threatened me not to become pregnant.  Turns out, a week later, I missed my period.  I stole a pregnancy test and took it in the convenience store’s bathroom.  It was positive.”  I’m becoming lost to the memory, and I fight to push back the fear I experienced that day.  “I desperately didn’t want the baby; I didn’t have anyone to confide in and nowhere to turn.  I hated the life growing inside me.  I read increased exercise and caffeine can cause a miscarriage.  So, I ran and drank caffeinated drinks constantly, every day.  I prayed for God to take the baby away from me.  I began bleeding two weeks later.”

I can feel the tension mounting in my body, and I’m hugging my middle in a physical attempt to keep myself together to finish my confession.  “I felt so grateful not to have had motherhood thrust upon me.  And then I felt intensely guilty like I was a monster who isn’t fit to have kids, like there is something wrong with me.  I feel, even now, that I’m someone who isn’t worthy enough to be a mom because I had a chance and wished the baby dead.  Every year I still imagine that baby and the life he or she could have had.  You are the only one I’ve ever told this to,” I finish in a whisper.

I don’t attempt to stop the tears from running down my face.  I take an unsteady breath, pushing myself to continue.  I need Ranger to hear the entire story before he decides if he loves me or not.

“Before you returned this last time, I captured a skip by the name Michael Bruno.  He was an easy find for me; he’s a long-time friend of Joe’s.  We had a chance to sit and catch up for a bit before I took him in, the details aren’t important.  What is important is he admitted that after Joe raped,” my voice catches at the word, and I have to pause before continuing.  I take a deep breath.  "raped me, and before he left for the Navy, he gathered the boys to brag.  One drink led to another, and they made a bet that he would marry me someday.  There are various terms, but the pot has been sitting in a bank account this entire time.  To the best of my knowledge, it is more than $1,200.  I guess not too many people get to know what their marriage is worth to someone," I add with resignation.

“It took several attempts on my part to get Joe to talk about the bet over a few months.  One of the reasons it took so long is his hedging, but part of the responsibility is my own.  I didn’t feel entirely ready to hear the truth while being plagued with nightmares of the past.  I wanted to believe the choices I was currently making to be with him were okay.  I wanted to believe he had changed, and the past was the past.”  I can’t stop the tears now, but I won’t stop until I finish my story.

“I finally confronted Joe two nights ago.  He became upset, and I realized he was lying to me.  He ripped off my shirt, and as I moved away, pushed me against a wall.  I believe if I hadn’t fought back he would have raped me again.”  I say this in a near whisper.

“On top of that, I can’t help but feel responsible for Emily’s death.  I’ve found working difficult, and my confidence is gone.”  I look down between my feet, shoulders hunched forward, running my hands through my hair.  I can’t look at Ranger.

"I have been fighting feelings of desolation, despair, failure, embarrassment, shame, and vulnerability, among others.  My days are difficult, and intense nightmares plague me so I haven't slept more than an hour or two at a time in months.  I feel deeply broken."

I'm suddenly awash in emotion.  It races through my body, and I can no longer be still.  My breathing is rapid, my hands trembling as I stand, forcing me to turn and race from the room.  I sprint through the hall, down the stairs, and to the ocean.  In my bare feet, I run, tears blurring my vision.  I don’t look back.  I run through the sand to the edge of the surf, causing my lungs and legs to burn.  I collapse to my knees, put my head in my hands and scream. 

Ranger is next to me on the sand, wrapping his arms around me, allowing me to scream into chest while I cry.  I let the tears fall, allowing the emotions to course through my body, all the feelings denied and tucked away for nearly thirty years, and I allow Ranger to be my strength. 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Ranger POV**

I'm sitting with my Babe on the porch, waiting for her to begin.  I'm honored and relieved she is going to talk to me.  I am bracing myself to listen to whatever she needs to tell me.  I hesitate when she asks me not to do anything.  As I don’t know what Steph is going to tell me, there is a chance the information she gives me will require action.  I push back and tell her she would be a part of any course of action.  I’m relieved she accepts my modified terms.  I know my reaction is going to be critical.  I must internalize and process the information, using my military training to fall on reason, not emotion; to think before I act.  The last thing I want is to scare her carelessly. 

I imperceptibly glance over at her.  Her posture is rigid, and I can tell she is trying to channel her blank face.  When she begins, her voice is steady and firm.  While I'm concerned at how depressed Steph sounds, I'm impressed at her goal setting and focus.  It's obvious she's given her words a great deal of thought.  I resolve to be a part of her solution.

She pauses, and when she continues, her voice is flat.  As she tells me about being molested at six, I am equally shocked by both Morelli's actions and how her family victimized her.  I am outraged that a parent wouldn't do everything they could to love and protect their child. 

I notice Steph's voice has become bitter and stringent when she asks me about the Tasty Pastry incident.  I know it's where she lost her virginity to Morelli and what lead to her breaking his leg with Big Blue, but I'm afraid if I say yes, she will self-edit information that could be critical to my understanding.  Not wanting to interject my words into her story, I shake my head no. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the pain of her next confession.  Morelli _raped_ her.  The fucking bastard.  I feel sick at the role I played in enabling their relationship.  I'm focusing on controlling my breathing, forcing my anger deep inside.  I see my Babe tremble as her relaying her story begins to take its toll.  I desperately want to wrap my arms around her, but I can see she is resolved to do this on her own.

 _Dios._   My Babe was pregnant and lost the baby.  My stomach is churning at the sight of Steph’s pain and grief as she clutches herself, and the armrests of the chair are threatening to break in my clenched hands.  I consciously relax them, knowing I can’t risk scaring Stephanie.  I can’t believe she went through that alone, and especially as a traumatized teen herself.  I’m not sure she ever mourned the loss of that baby, and it’s clear she is blaming herself even now for the miscarriage.  I always wondered why she seemed closed off to the idea of kids.  Steph’s bitch of a mother is the one who is unfit to care for another person, not my Babe!  I use Steph’s silence to steady my own emotions, wondering how much more she has to tell me.

I knew about the bets and polls placed at the Precinct and how those hurt Steph.  I can't imagine how shattered she must have felt to learn her relationship with Morelli is the original bet.  With her permission, this I can quickly fix; I will use my considerable influence in the community to do something I should have done a long time ago.  I will shut that down.  Steph will never be a wager again. 

Then comes the revelation that rocks me to my core.  The abuse never stopped, and I see all of Morelli's ramblings and tirades in a new light.  His threat to her isn't in the past; it exists _now_.  I've always thought I could be there to protect her.  I never realized how close the danger was.  In time, I will deal with Morelli.  He will never harm her again. 

As Steph tells me of the trauma she has endured, which doesn’t even include the dangers she has faced as a bounty hunter, coupled with flashbacks, nightmares, and sleeplessness, I am amazed she is functioning at all.  I've known soldiers who have cracked under less strain than she has experienced recently.  My Babe has no idea how strong she is.

I knew her last car explosion shook her along with her skip's death.  I think I assumed she would bounce back as always.  I have failed her as her mentor and friend.  I shouldn't have let the pressures of returning to work along with the distance she was maintaining keep me from actively following up on her.  At a minimum, I should have known she was struggling with work.  I could have easily given her back up and resources.  I wonder how she is doing without as much money from FTAs coming in.

I continue to look at her through the corner of my vision.  She is openly crying, but hiding her face from me.  Her body is trembling with the tension, and I'm becoming increasingly concerned about her overall well-being.  I don't know how much more she has to tell me, but for her sake, I hope it isn't much more.

When she does speak again, my heart breaks at the brokenness of her words, and my throat tightens.  My Babe has been living in the depths of emotional hell.  I am stunned at the dark depiction she has of herself.  I think she believes her light has been snuffed out. 

I'm staring openly at her now, but she is too lost in her thoughts to notice.  I'm about to move closer to her when she suddenly bolts.  I've never seen her run so fast.  It's as though she is attempting to outpace the demons she feels surround her.  I match her stride but stay close behind, giving her the space she needs to move.  I don't think she has any awareness of her surroundings or time as she sprints more than two miles. 

I see her collapse, and I surge forth to kneel beside her, enveloping her in my arms.  Her scream, _Dios_ , please let me never hear this anguish from my Babe again.  I say a silent prayer that my presence and strength will be enough to help her through this night and all the others to follow.  I pray I have the wisdom and resources to give her what she needs to heal and be happy with her life again.

Holding my broken Babe, her small frame heaving with every sob and scream, my love for her deepens, and I know I am holding my own life and heart in my arms.  There is nothing I won't do to show her that I love her, to help her, and to support her.  I embrace her firmly, wanting to convey strength and assurance.  I rub my hand in gentle circles on her back, breathing in deep meditative breaths.  I'm hoping the rhythm will help her calm her own rapid and uneven breathing, bring her back to me. 

Kneeling on the cold, hard-packed sand left by the receding tide, I speak softly to her, _"Gracias por compartir tu historia conmigo._ _Yo estaré aquí para ti. Querida, te quiero. Tú eres mi luz. Eres belleza y fuerza, compasivo e inteligente, valiente y leal. Estoy sorprendido de que hayas llevado esta carga tan bien durante tanto tiempo. Haré todo lo que pueda para aligerar tu carga. Eres mi todo."_

She begins to calm, and I decide to tell her the words in English.  Steph needs to know I am wholly devoted to her, that nothing she has revealed to me has in any way lowered my esteem in her.  "Babe," I start in a soothing tone.  She lifts her eyes to me, and I pause, taking in the intense emotions contained therein.  "Thank you for sharing your story with me.  I will be here for you.  My dear, I love you.  You are my light.  You are beauty and strength, compassionate and intelligent, courageous and loyal.  I am astonished you have carried this burden alone so well for so long.  I will do anything I can to make your load lighter.  You are my everything." 

She looks confused and sorrowful before she lowers her chin.  "How can you say that?" she says quietly into my chest.  "How are you not walking away completely convinced I am a dirty, shamed, failure of a woman?  Everyone told me my whole life that all of this is my fault, and I think I’ve come to believe it.  I cause bad things to happen to me and others.  I'm not a good person."

My hardened soul shatters.  A single tear escapes from the corner of my eye.  I pick my Babe up, cradling her in my arms.  "Stephanie," I passionately say.  "You are the best person I know.  I am in love with the amazing person you are.  You sharing what has happened to you could never take away from my love.  None of this is your fault.  Lean on me.  Let me be your strength.  You don't have to do this alone anymore.  I will never leave you."  I kiss the top of her head, holding it a long moment.

I feel the inner battle Steph wages as she considers my words.  I let out my breath as I feel her relax in my arms.  She lifts her head to meet my gaze and says, "I'm not sure I believe what you say about me is true, but I will try.  Thank you for listening to and being there for me.  I love you."  My heart swells and a second tear escapes as she leans up and quickly kisses me on the lips. 

I turn, and we begin our journey back together.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Ranger POV**

I carry my Babe back to the hotel.  She is exhausted, and her eyes closed, but I don't think she is sleeping.  The moon lights the return path, and the crashing waves are all we can hear.  In the peaceful silence, we both process all of Stephanie’s revelations. ~~~~

I feel both lighter and heavier.  I am overjoyed Steph accepts and returns my love.  It's more than I had hoped because she is my future, and I am so glad we are now traveling this life together.  At the same time, I am angrier than I have ever been.  It is un-fucking-believable she has endured a lifetime of abuse and victimization by Morelli, her parents, and the Burg.  I am humbled she shared her story with me.  Following her here was the best decision of my life.  While things are dark for my Babe now, I feel uplifted by her optimism and desire to change her life for the better.  I will do whatever I can in pursuit of that goal.

With that resolution burning inside me, I also know the obstacles my Babe is facing require more than I alone can give her.  She needs to see a therapist.  Steph seems to want change, and I’m hoping she will reach that same conclusion in the light of tomorrow.  If not, I will press the issue.  By Monday, she needs to see a mental health professional.

Steph has begun to shiver.  I believe it is a combination of the chilly night air and adrenaline let down from the intense emotional rollercoaster she has been riding.  We are both covered in sand that we need to rinse off before bed.  I pick up the pace and shortly ease us into the room.  I set her down on the closed toilet lid and turn on the shower.  I kneel before her to be at eye level. 

"Babe, would you like company in your shower?" I ask, not wanting to be too forward in her fragile state. 

Steph looks relieved to be asked, quietly replying without meeting my gaze, "Alone, please.  And Ranger, thank you."

"No price, Babe.  I will be nearby should you need anything," I reply, stepping outside, closing the door to a crack.  I need to work on getting her to look at me.

I walk the small distance to the porch, leaving the sliding door open.  I sigh, releasing some of my own pent-up emotions.  I desperately want a physical release for the anger I feel, but my concern for Steph outweighs any of my needs.  I begin to brush off the sand, remaining vigilant.

 

**Stephanie POV**

I am overwhelmed and touched by Ranger's response to me.  I never imagined he would be so accepting, patient, and loving.  I thought that once I began to tell him my history, he would undoubtedly see me the way everyone else does, and he would be gone.  That I can rest with him is providing me with immense peace and comfort after the intensity of the evening. 

I am very relieved someone else knows the truth.  I hadn't realized how much the weight of the untold truth was pushing me down.  I don't entirely believe Ranger's assessment of me, nor do I fully understand why he is still here.  I do know I want to believe him.  I want to escape this darkness.

I can feel the physical and emotional exhaustion in my bones.  If I were a bucket, I would be laying on my side empty.  I also feel dirty.  I am desperate for a shower before bed, and once again, Ranger's ESP saves the day.

As much as I trust Ranger, I need a moment to gather myself.  Even with our newfound declarations of love, I'm feeling nervous about being naked around him.  I'd prefer to save that intimacy for when I am in a better place mentally.  I hope he doesn't think I am rejecting him.

Gratefully alone, I undress and step into the shower and turn it hotter.  The shower has become my sanctuary.  It is the place where I wash away the sins of the past.  I can scrub away the memory of each touch and violation.  It's where I try to gain control and seek peace. 

I lather the washcloth and hold it in my hands.  My skin is pulsing in the places Joe has touched me without my consent.  My neck.  Scrub.  My breasts.  Scrub.  My stomach.  Scrub.  My arms.  Scrub.  My inner thighs.  Scrub.  It's become such a frequent habit, the flesh is red, raw and cracked in places.  The soap burns and stings.  I wait for the relief.  I scrub harder, frustrated.  Relief doesn't come.

Instead, I think of Ranger, and his words tonight.  _Beauty.  Strength.  Courageous._   Am I courageous?  Am I strong enough to overcome this?  _Good._   Could there be a good person inside of me? 

I'm standing still, trapped by uncertainty.  I look at the washcloth in my hands, and I look at the broken skin.  I need to stop.  But then how do I stop feeling dirty?

I begin to tremble again, and I force myself not to cry.  I can do this.  It's just a shower.  No, that's denial-land Stephanie talking.  Beginning the journey of accepting myself is essential.  I can't take the first step on my own. 

"Ranger," I say before I even finish forming the thought.  "Ranger," I say it louder and with desperate urgency.

The door is pushed open, and I can see his shadow through the curtain.  "Babe?"

I am relieved he is continuing to respect my physical boundaries, but I suddenly need him more than I've ever needed anyone.  "Please, I can't do this on my own." 

The words sound pathetic to my ears.  Ranger peeks around the curtain, but I don't look at him.  A moment later, he has shed his clothing and is facing me in the shower.  I can feel his eyes studying my body, but I keep my look fixed on my feet.  I'm too embarrassed. 

Then, he places his hands in mine and slowly removes the washcloth.  Setting it aside, he puts his hands on my shoulders and lowers them slowly before pulling me into an embrace.  I begin to feel relief.

I think he is waiting for me to explain myself, so I begin hesitantly rambling, tripping over my words.  "When I started having flashbacks and nightmares, I, I would feel disgusting, often covered in sweat.  They, they are so vivid; it often feels as though the event has just happened all over again.  I needed to wash away how dirty I feel, so I would, would scrub the memory away."  I pause to breathe, surprised it seems I still have a few tears left in me.  I'm about to start justifying myself again when Ranger speaks.

"Babe, you have no reason to be ashamed.  You have dealt with something incredibly difficult the best way you know how.  Thank you for asking me to be here."  His words spark hope inside me. 

Ranger steps back slightly, "Look at me," he gently commands.  I take a big breath and hesitantly lift my chin.  I feel entirely vulnerable.  I'm taken aback to see his face filled with warmth, compassion, and love.  "I want to tell you what I see.  I see a beautiful woman.  I see bravery.  You never have to hide what you feel from me.  I will never judge you.  I'm proud of you, Babe."

This time, I initiate the hug.  I very rarely do so, and I can feel Ranger's surprise before he returns the embrace.  "I love you," I say with my head resting on his heart. 

 _"Querida, te quiero,"_ he responds, kissing my hair.

We finish the shower, and I dress for bed, pulling a procured shirt of Ranger's from my bag.  I see him smile slightly.  Laying down in the bed, I find his eyes.  "Stay with me?" I question, hope on my face. 

Ranger rewards me with a 200-watt smile.  He turns off the light and settles beside me.  I mold my body into his, breathing in his scent.  Warmth spreads through my weary body.  I feel loved and safe.  I fall asleep more easily than I have in months.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

**Ranger POV**

I held my Babe in my arms waiting for the relaxation of sleep to take over her body.  I have no intention of falling asleep before her, not that I could.  I have too much to think about because today has been a day of many life-changing revelations.  _Dios!_   My anger towards that fucker Morelli is simmering just below the surface, and it’s my love for Steph that is keeping it there.  I’m going to need to run, swim, go to the gym, do target practice, anything physical soon to give me a better handle at reigning in my beast.  Regular PT (physical training) is how I maintain my ability to remain calm.

I was unprepared for what I saw when Steph called me into the bathroom.  Her voice had raw desperation, which like many things of today I hope never to hear again.  It took me a moment to figure out why she called me.  My mind is too wired to look for external dangers.  It took a beat to register the threat she is to herself.  Based on the number of healing areas versus raw patches, she has been releasing her stress by scrubbing her skin excessively for some time.  It speaks to her determination to make things better which allowed her to seek my help.

As a combat veteran in the Army and my government contract work, I have seen men and a few women struggle after they survived the violence of war.  I don’t know of any soldiers from combat units who don’t know someone who never really came home, falling to suicide or some other ghost, such as alcoholism or drug abuse, that eventually killed them.  There are several units where suicide has claimed more people than battle after they returned to the States. 

In response to high suicide rates in recent years, all service members in all branches undergo annual suicide prevention training.  I've also undergone specialized training for PTSD.  It is a protocol for each unit to have a Sexual Assault Prevention Response Advocate or SAPR advocate.  Bobby completed the training for our unit and briefs us annually on broad facets of the Department of Defense's sexual assault prevention program.

I’m frowning, trying to remember the briefings.  Based on Steph’s recounting of flashbacks, enduring recent trauma, depression, and self-harm, I believe she may be somewhere on the PTSD spectrum.  I know it is imperative I convince her to see a specialist.  What I do remember clearly from my annual training is if we suspect someone has PTSD to treat it as a life-threatening disease and to use whatever resources we have available to encourage that person into proper care. 

What is for certain is I won’t be letting Steph out of my care anytime soon.  I can’t risk losing my Babe.  I’m again saying a prayer of thanks I decided to follow and subsequently catch up with her. 

 

**Stephanie POV**

Despite being utterly exhausted mentally and physically, only the comfort and security of Ranger's presence only allows me to fall asleep with ease.  In the wee hours, my demons return.

I'm standing in front of my childhood home.  My parents, along with Val, Dickie Orr, Joe Morelli, his mother Angie, his Grandmother Bella, several members of the Trenton PD, several women of the Burg, Michael Bruno, Joe's cousin Mooch, Terry Gillman, Joyce Barnhardt, and others who I recognize from school form a circle around me.  The crowd is deep, and the more I look, the more people I recognize.  I stop scanning, staring at my feet.  Maybe if I force myself to be invisible, they will go away.

“How did you raise such an egregious girl, Ellen?  I’m amazed you can love a disappointment such as her!” comes a random voice.

“We have to work hard at it, but it’s God’s work, as they say,” Ellen replies.

“I tried to love her, but I realized early on she was never going to be enough,” chimes in the Dick.

“I thought I could be the one to tame her, but even my best efforts seem to be unappreciated,” commiserates Joe.

“It seems all the men in her life need me to satisfy them after she’s left them wanting more between the sheets,” gloats Joyce. 

“She’s such an embarrassment, always jumping off roofs, running over nice boys with cars, rolling in the trash and blowing things up!” whines Valerie.

“I think some people might be hopeless.  She certainly isn’t good enough for my Joseph,” declares Angie.

“Unlovable.”

“Worthless.”

“Inept.”

The crowd crushes me. 

I wake up sweating, my heart pounding in my ears.  I remember Ranger is sleeping next to me, and I remain still, not wanting to alarm him.  I very slowly slide off the bed and move to the bathroom.  In the darkness, I sit on the closed toilet seat, placing my hands over my face.  A thin sheen of sweat covers my body, and each drop of salty liquid feels like a reminder of the condemnation.

I still can’t believe Ranger said he loves me.  What does he see that everyone else fails to see?  And what would he think if he saw me now?  A basket case… again.  _Pull yourself together, Steph, before you blow it again._  

I grab a towel, and I try to rub all the sweat off of me, ridding myself of its oppressive weight.  I force myself not to cry.  I’ve done more than enough crying!  I squeeze my eyes tightly; I’m fiercely toweling the sweat off, barely breathing when a hand rests on top of mine.

My eyes fly open, and I let out an involuntary shriek, jumping backward.  It takes me a moment to register Ranger's presence in front of me.  _Fuck.  I woke him up._

“I’m sorry.  I tried to be quiet.  I didn’t mean to wake you.  I, I,” I pause, not finding the right words.  _Great, now I can add bumbling to the list._   “Ugh!”  I ineloquently finish, giving up, standing there pathetically.

Ranger surprises me again and steps forward to envelop me in a hug, pulling the towel out of my hand.  He doesn't say anything, just breaths deeply and evenly.  I find myself matching his rhythm and relaxing in spite of myself.  I lift my arms to hug him in return.

“Why?”  I whisper.  “Why are you still here?  Haven’t you figured out I’m not worth it yet?”

Ranger steps back and crouches slightly to look me in the eyes.  “Babe, you’ve done nothing wrong.  I love you.  I would stay up all night to be with you.  Besides,” he checks his watch.  “It’s 0500.  I would be awake anyway.” 

He pulls me back into a warm embrace, “Would you like to tell me why you are awake?  Nightmare?” he softly questions.

I sigh.  “Yes,” I say with deep resignation.  “I was in here trying to get rid of it.”

“Babe, please wake me if I’m not awake.  You don’t have to face it alone.  No price, remember?” 

“I don’t deserve you,” I say, confessing my deepest fear.  My voice warbles against my will at the end. 

“Stephanie,” I hear Ranger say firmly.  _Crap.  Here it comes.  The moment of truth._  My body tenses as I brace myself for what I know will be him realizing dealing with all my baggage is not what he wanted after all.  He suddenly picks me up, carries me to the bed and sits down, pulling me across his lap.  

Ranger kisses me on the top of my head and starts again, “Babe, _te quiero._   I’m sorry for holding you at arm’s length and for giving you a thousand excuses for not being able to commit to a relationship.  I’m so sorry for sending you back to Morelli.  You are everything to me.  You are light, love, compassion, zeal, enthusiasm, individuality, humor, kindness, and so much more.  You compliment and challenge me in all the best ways.  I will never regret being here with you.  I only regret it took me so long to get here.  You never need to apologize for waking me, for confiding in me, for asking me for anything.  After everything I’ve done in my life, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.  I’m grateful to hold you in my arms, beginning a new journey with you together.”

I’m stunned.  It’s possibly the most I’ve ever heard Ranger say at once, and given that he’s said more to me in the past 24 hours than whole years combined, that’s saying something.  I look into his eyes, and I’m even more shocked to see they are glistening with tears.  “You truly mean it, don’t you?”  I say.

He continues to look down intently at me.

I’m suddenly overcome and determined not to let the ghosts of yesterday destroy the hope of tomorrow.  I twist so I’m face to face with Ranger and kiss him with my entire being.  I’m fast, fervent and I pour every bit of fire I have for that man into the moment.  My lips part, the tip of my tongue sweeping past his.  My arms are around his back, my fingers gripping his skin, willing us to be impossibly closer.  I pull myself up on my knees, straddling his waist.  My hands are around his neck, and I release the kiss, panting for air, my chest pressed into his chest, my head on his shoulder.  His arms hold me in a firmness that gives strength to my soul.  I’m finally home, finally whole, and finally safe.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

Date/Time Stamp:  Sunday, 16 September, 0600-1000

**Stephanie POV**

Sitting with Ranger gives me a completeness I have never experienced.  I’m breathing rapidly in response to the kiss, and my heart is pounding.  I can feel his arousal underneath me.  I’m flattered he has responded to me, and I’m relieved he is content not to pursue it.  Despite the kiss and heavy petting, I’m not ready to have sex yet.  I want to be, but I feel shy and unsure about doing the naked tango, despite the moment of passion.  That he is respecting my unspoken boundary makes me love him even more. 

We rest together, bodies entwined when my stomach decides to add a soundtrack to the moment.  _OMG!_

I feel Ranger chuckle underneath me, “Babe, we need to feed the beast!”

I’m surprised to be hungry.  It’s been a while since my body gave an audible opinion, despite my diminished appetite.  Ranger is good for me in more ways than I thought. 

We get dressed, Ranger retreating to his motel room.  I manage a ponytail, single mascara swipe and button-up black and white checked shirt with jeans.  I automatically begin going through my mental gear checklist while sorting through my handbag when I realize he still has my SW.  For the most part, I’ve kept it in my cookie jar at home, but it’s been my constant companion wherever I’ve gone for weeks.  I haven’t trusted myself with the craziness in my life lately, and I am afraid of missing a potential danger.  I think I’ve gotten little used to the security a handgun brings.  _But you did pull it on Ranger.  He isn’t going to give it back.  No sane person pulls a gun on Ranger._

I look up and see Ranger, dressed in a tight black t-shirt, jeans that accented his butt to perfection and boots.  He is leaning against the door frame dividing our rooms, arms crossed, eyebrow raised, a ghost of a smile on his face.  “Looking for something?”

To confess or to keep my mouth shut.  The smirk forming in the corners of Ranger’s mouth overrode my sense of self-preservation.  "My gun, if you must know.  Give it back."  I stuck out my hand.

“Babe, I never thought I would see the day you wanted your gun,” he said, not moving. 

“Well,” I huff.  I stomp forward, attempting to barge past Ranger into his room to find it for myself.  I’m beginning to feel like I’m on a mission from God. 

Ranger easily stops me, putting his arm on the door frame, effectively blocking the doorway by simply opening his posture slightly.  It was never a battle I was going to win.  “How about you stick with the stun gun and pepper spray, and I’ll bring the two guns and a knife?” he says into my neck, his words tickling my neck.  I felt the argument go out of me as blood left my head and a tingle raced through my spine.  _Yes, I can be safe with Ranger.  He always has my back.  I will trust him._

We turn to leave, and we walk in step to a diner down the block, his hand around my waist. 

**Ranger POV**

We enter the diner just as dawn’s rays begin to chase away the night.  We are seated in the corner booth, and I’m pleased Steph slides in before me so we can sit together; her hands entwined with mine, her head on my shoulder as we look at the menu.  I am content to sit beside her. 

The waitress is pushing 60, attempting to look 30, and smiles broadly in her white loafers, tan uniform dress and a stained apron.  "What'll it be this morning?" Doris questions directly, no chit-chat.

“Coffee, cinnamon roll, and French toast with a side of bacon please” Steph orders. 

“Coffee, veggie egg white omelet with ham, whole wheat toast, dry,” I add. 

"Thank you," Steph adds, smiling warmly back at Doris before she ambles towards the kitchen.

In the silence, I consider the morning.  I felt when Steph rolled out of bed this morning, but when she padded to the bathroom, I thought she might need the toilet, and an instantaneous response on my part would be a little too stalker-like.  I should have followed my instinct and checked on her sooner, and I'm not making that mistake again.  She was about to make herself start bleeding again, and I don't think she realized it. 

I was more than a little surprised she was looking for her revolver.  Steph hates guns, and that she seems to have adopted a habit of carrying underlines how unsafe she must be feeling.  I need to work on a plan to help her develop more self-defense skills so she can feel more confident again.  However, based on her current mental state, there is no way I'm letting her have her gun back anytime soon.

 _Dios!_   That kiss!  I work to control my growing hardness at the memory.  I have never experienced a kiss that was so thoroughly and unexpectedly passionate.  It was easily one of the sexiest and most heated moments of my life.  I wanted nothing more than to finish what that kiss promised, but I am not going to take the lead.  Multiple people that my Babe trusted and loved violated her repeatedly, and as a result, she barely trusts and loves herself.  I will be patient and let her take the driver's seat.  

Our food arrives, and I shift again as Steph audibly groans at her first bite.  It’s a great sound, and it cheers me to hear some of her old Stephanie returning.  We are still holding hands, and I squeeze her fingers gently.  She smiles slightly at me, her cheeks a little pinker.  “Babe,” I say while smiling at her in reply.

Steph eats less than half what she ordered, but it’s more than she’s eaten this entire trip combined.  Thank goodness. 

"Would you mind walking on the beach?"  Steph asks as we exit.  I nod slightly and steer us towards the beach access point.  We pause at a bench to remove our shoes and roll the cuffs of our jeans.  We stroll hand in hand to the point where wet sand meets dry, with the seagulls squawking their morning song overhead.

“I didn’t come here just to fall apart,” Steph starts.  “Certainly I came here to cry, scream, get drunk and feel everything I knew was coming, and I didn’t want to do it in the Burg under prying eyes.  It wasn’t the only reason I came, however.”

She has my full attention. 

“I want my life to be better.  I can’t go home to Joe, my mom, everyone while I continue to feel like an unlovable failure.  I feel like I’m in the middle of a war between the Stephanie I want to be and the Stephanie I am expected to be.  I know if I go back and continue to fight that war as is, I’ll lose, and it will slowly kill _me._ ”

I squeeze her hand tighter in encouragement.  I want to pull her closer, but I sense she needs some space to finish her thought. 

“I never counted on you, though.  I never considered a world where you would want me, Ranger, and it changes my possibilities.  Instead of me figuring a way out of this mess alone, would you like to figure it out with me?”  Her voice quiets, but I sense the hope.  I turn my head and see her eyebrows knit together. 

I stop and pull her to me.  “ _Querida, te quiero._   I want nothing more than to help you.  Thank you for asking me.  Anything I have, anything I can do is available to you.”  I hear her take a deep breath and let it out. 

“Ranger,” Steph pauses, seemingly gathering courage.  “I need to know before I count on you for this, what am I to you?  I know you love me, and I love you, but I’m asking a lot. We’ve been friends for years, and I consider you my best friend.  We’ve been lovers from time to time.  We’ve never tried a relationship, and it’s a big deal without all the excess crap in my life.  So, what are we?  Are we in this for the long haul?”  She pulls back to look at me, and I admire her directness. 

I’m overwhelmed again at her willingness to love and trust me despite everything.  I pull her back into an embrace, speaking into her ear in Spanish, using it as a sounding board to organize my thoughts.  _"Eres una mujer increible. Quiero pasar la eternidad contigo.  Si quisieras, me casaría contigo hoy.  Tú_ _eres mi vida, mi luz.  Soy un hombre mejor porque me amas.  Me siento honrado de que me elija, y pasaré mi vida tratando de ser digno de ti._ _Me gustaría pasar nuestros días envejeciendo juntos, tener hijos si quisiéramos, ir de aventuras y compartir planes, esperanzas y sueños._ _Gracias por permitirme ser parte de tus planes ahora.  Querida, te quiero,”_ I say ardently. 

 When I finish, I kiss her head.  I look at her and see love intermixed with curiosity.  I feel torn between being completely open and censoring my words.  I don’t regret them, but I don’t want to scare her either.  Steph helps me decide as she leans into me, kisses my lips and says, “Tell me.” 

Face to face, holding hands, I look at her directly and say, “Babe, you are an amazing woman.  I want to spend eternity with you.  If you wanted, I would marry you today. You are my life, my light.  I am a better man because you love me.  I'm honored you would choose me, and I will spend my life trying to be worthy of you.  I would happily spend our days growing old together, having children if we wanted, going on adventures, and sharing plans, hopes and dreams.  Thank you for letting me be a part of your plans now.  My dear, I love you.”

Steph smiles, squeezing my hands tighter, and cocks her head to one side.  “Is that a marriage proposal?”  she asks.

“Do you want it to be?” I reply.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

Date/Time Stamp:  Sunday, 16 September, 1000-1110

**Stephanie POV**

Holy cow.  I need to think before I speak sometimes.  I can’t believe I just challenged Ranger with a proposal.  I can’t believe he might have taken me seriously.  Is that a marry me face or a calling my bluff face?  I don’t know if it is the stress of the past weeks, relief to have shared my burden with someone, or maybe my cheese has finally slid off its cracker, but I laugh.

I laugh harder than I have in ages.  Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, and I double over.  God, I hope I haven’t offended Ranger.  I peek up at him, and he breaks into a thousand-watt smile with a bark of laughter of his own. 

“I’m sorry,” I say between giggles.  “No, I most certainly do not want to get married before we even go on our first date!  I didn’t mean to poke fun at you.”

I take a deep breath and calm myself before embracing Ranger.  He returns my embrace, and I feel lighter than I have in months. I pull my head up to give him a light kiss before taking his hand and resuming our walk towards the motel.

“Thank you,” I say, turning my head to look at him directly.  “No one has ever believed in me the way you do.  I know I don’t believe in me the way you do.  I want to work on changing that.”  I notice that we are nearing the motel.  I slow and steer us to a bench. 

I sit with Ranger’s arm around my shoulders, my toes buried in the sand, my head resting on his chest.  “Does this mean someday for us has arrived?”  I ask seriously.

“Yes,” Ranger replies with the same soft seriousness.

I blush and smile reflexively, butterflies taking flight in my stomach.  “I love you.  I’m glad you are here, that you haven’t left, and that you plan on staying.  I’m trusting you more than I thought I could trust anyone right now.”  Ranger squeezes my shoulder gently.

I look at the ocean, my hand on his thigh, reflecting on the past several years.  "You've always been fire and passion to me.  No one has ever made me feel as alive as you do.  I've been terrified of the idea of a relationship with you because I assumed I would ultimately be left broken and alone.  I knew it wouldn't be hard for me to fall irrevocably in love with you, and while I tried not to, I know that I am in love with you.  I think I’ve known since Scrog.  While I have something of a phobia of marriage, babies and all it entails, at least according to the Burg, I thought you wanted it even less than me.  I’m still not sure I want or need marriage, but I’m not as scared to take that step if it is with you."

I turn on the bench, tucking my legs underneath me, so I am looking directly at Ranger.  His nearest hand rests on my thighs.  I look into his warm, brown eyes, and I see his love for me in them. 

I continue, "I'm grateful you told me how you feel.  I want to begin a path of forever with you, too.  For now, knowing we are committed to our someday together is enough as I work on myself."  I am surprised to find tears in the corners of my eyes, but I know these are tears of joy, relief, and my love for him.  I place my hands at the edges of Ranger's face, gently moving them along his hairline before kissing him again.  This time it’s a kiss filled with promise and hope of a happy future together.  We pull apart gently, and I whisper, "I love you."

Ranger matches my gaze, “I am committed to forever with you.  _Querida, te quiero_.”

We move off the bench, put on our shoes and return hand in hand to the motel.

Once we enter my room and I kick off my sandals again, I turn to Ranger saying, “I’m glad you’re here, but it’s time for me to kick you out,” while gesturing towards the door. 

He looks at me with an eyebrow cocked.  I wish I could do that.  “Babe.”  What that man can do with one word. 

“Look, I think we could both say the past couple of days have been a lot.  I need to think and rest.  I haven’t seen you work out since you’ve been here.  We both need some time to recoup and recover before tackling the future,” I say with firmness. 

I can see him considering the options.  I walk over to my bag and pull out my cell phone, turning it on.  Crap.  Eighteen voice messages, more than twice that in missed calls and a bunch of texts.  Nope.  I’m not going to deal with this right now.  I place it face down on the nightstand next to the bed. 

"I know I haven't shown you my most emotionally stable side.  My phone is on so I can contact you if needed, and I'm not going down the rabbit hole of those messages without you.  You've confiscated my gun and my whiskey.  I promise not to take a bath or a shower until you return.  I'm going to lock myself in this room, lay on this bed and think, sleep if I can.  That's it."  I have my hands on my hips, my chin jutted up, daring him to challenge me.

The corners of Ranger's mouth lift slightly, and he strides towards me.  "Babe, I don't need to work out.  I'd rather be here with you."  His voice is soft and seductive as he wraps his arms around my waist.  My thoughts become hazy as I'm close enough to breathe in the intoxicating smell of Eau de Ranger.  I feel myself melting into his warm, solid body.

“Nope, this is why.  I love you, and you make me feel mushy.  I need to think,” I step back, breaking away from Ranger’s embrace.

“Mushy?” Ranger says, amusement clear in his voice, but I can see he is giving my request serious consideration.  “Okay.  We can’t have that.  I will be back in under an hour.  I expect you to keep your terms and conditions,” he finishes firmly, looking purposefully into my eyes. 

“I will,” I say solemnly, knowing he is concerned about my well-being and humbled to know he cares.  I lean up to kiss him, and he returns the kiss, making it slightly deeper before suddenly pulling away and retreating to his room. 

Exhausted but resolved, I flop back onto the bed, spread eagle in my favorite thinking position.  I take a deep breath, becoming aware of the silence of the room, and I sink deeper into the bed.

What a difference a day can make.  Opening up to Ranger was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I’m so grateful I have.  I know the last 24 hours mark a turning point in my life.  For the first time, I have genuine hope. 

I still feel betrayed by Joe and my mother.  I need to break the cycle and work towards resolving the emotional ramifications of our history.  I will no longer put myself in a position where they can continue to hurt me.  I need to face all the issues I’ve spent a lifetime denying exist.

I've never wanted to be a stronger person so much in my life, emotionally, mentally, and physically.    With Ranger beside me, I want to do it not only for myself but also to challenge myself to be the person he says he sees.

Having Ranger as a part of my life not only gives me courage, it gives me options if I chose to be brave.  I have come out in a worse position after every relationship I ever had where I trusted and loved another person.  It hasn't mattered if it was my heart, my money, or my livelihood.  Perhaps this is where I begin being strong.  I choose to love and trust Ranger with my future despite the painful memories of the past.

I lay there considering the life I have and the life I want.  I consider what I am ready to give up to hopefully gain much more.  I know along the way I might be losing some people who I thought were my friends, and I may potentially lose my relationship with my mother permanently.  Ultimately, I expected some of these decisions to be hard, but in the clarity of a committed future with Ranger, I begin to see a new vision for my life.

I’m ready to do the work change requires.  I drift asleep, content, for the first time in a long time.

**Ranger POV**

Running is how I do my best thinking.   It's where I fight back my demons, work through difficult problems and sort out my emotions.  PT in general not only makes me stronger physically, but it also makes me stronger mentally.  I learned early in my Army career that a physical training regimen keeps me focused, relieves excess aggression, and allows me to think uninhibited.

Feeling the Daytona sand pound rhythmically under my feet acts as a metronome conducting the orchestra of thoughts and feelings from the past few days, giving it sense, flow, and order.  With each step my barely contained anger focuses into a resolution for justice, my worry turns into purpose, and my failures are set aside for an optimistic future.

Steph's laughter this morning did more than I could have anticipated to give me the certainty that a future with her is what I want.  Her humor in all things, persistence, and resiliency have carried her farther than most.  It shouldn't have to carry her forever.  She has demons I never imagined, and I will be there for her.

I’ve never wanted to sacrifice my personal life for another person before.  As a child, I struggled to know my purpose in my large family, turning to gangs to give me the feeling of belonging, acceptance.  As an adult, I’ve always been focused on my professional goals, first in the Army, then as a government contractor, and finally with Rangeman.  While I love Julie, it’s only since Scrog I’ve come to understand I need to build a better bond with my daughter.

I told myself my life didn’t lend itself to relationships, because that was the way it had to be.  The truth is, my life hasn’t lent itself to relationships, because I chose not to be reliant on anyone else. 

While my government work has been noble and self-sacrificial, the government is an unyielding machine that will continue to take until I walk away or am dead.  I've given enough in service to God and Country on the front lines.  It's hard to accept not going into the field, not going on missions anymore, and not being the leader for those missions.  It gives me a distinct sense of purpose along with an adrenaline high.  I'm quickly becoming the oldest person on any assignment.  I've stayed active as long as I have through my high physical endurance and exceptional instincts.

With my Babe, I feel as though I have a new purpose and mission in life.  Even the well-founded hope of forever with her gives my life focus and meaning.  Devoting my professional career to Rangeman provides safety and long-term security to the hundreds of men and women in my employ as well as the communities they serve.

It's easy to think of purpose as the direct life saved, such as in a rescue mission, or lives indirectly saved but still by my hand, such as the capture or elimination of an enemy combatant.  The apparent cause and effect are its own reinforcing high.  Rangeman can be that on a much bigger scale if I can set my individual goals aside for that of the greater good.

Feeling calm and resolved, I turn my path back to my future.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Thank you to Janet Evanovich for creating wonderful characters and letting us play. Not mine.
> 
> Thank you to misty23y for her work as my beta!

Date/Time Stamp:  Sunday, 16 September, 1200-1300

**Stephanie POV**

I begin to stir from my nap as I sense I’m not alone, and I see Ranger sitting in a chair, watching me sleep.  He sees my eyes begin to open and moves to half lay, half sit on the bed beside me.  I roll onto my side and settle into the crook of his shoulder.  “Mmmmm,” I moan, relishing in the fuzziness of being half awake and half intoxicated by his scent.  “Why were you sitting in the corner?” I ask, curiosity getting the best of me.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said.  “Watching you sleep is one of my favorite things.”

“If you weren’t so sexy, that could be considered creepy,” I teasingly reply.

“You think I’m sexy?” Ranger says in a seductive voice. 

I blush as words fail me and settle on another, “Mmmmm,” stretching out my waking muscles.  I sit beside Ranger, and he kisses the top of my hair.  It sends a warmth straight down to my toes. 

“I think you’re good for me,” I say. 

“Babe?” Ranger questions.

“That’s the best hour of sleep I’ve had in quite a while.  I’m not saying I’ve managed to resolve my sleep issues, but it gives me hope, and I’m ready to talk about the future,” I say confidently.

Ranger pulls me in closer.  “Remember I’m here for you, whatever you need,” he says.

“Thank you,” I reply.  “That knowledge helped me make quite a few decisions.”

I take a deep breath and begin nervously but with resolution, “I can’t go back to Trenton right now.  I know your life is there, and I want to be with you, but I also understand if your business obligations require you to be there.  Even though I’ve only been here a few short days, being away from the oppressive weight of that place has given me enough perspective to realize going back there right now will destroy me the way things stand.”  I sigh, saying in a smaller voice, “I hope I’m not already asking too much of you.”

Ranger kisses the top of my head again, “Babe, no price, remember?  I don’t have to work out of Trenton.  I can work out of any of the satellite offices or remotely.  The business is built to survive if I go in the wind.  Where do you want to be?”

I feel my shoulders sag in relief.  “Miami,” I say.  “It works for you professionally, and it has the bonuses of Julie and the ocean.”

“Miami it is Babe,” Ranger agrees.

“I also decided I need to quit working for Vinnie,” I continue.  “I’ve been in the unfortunate position of loving the nature of the work despite being not completely equipped to handle its dangers coupled with the job being a barrier against a life I don’t want.  Before now, if I quit, I no longer had a reason in the eyes of Joe, my mother and the Burg to keep that relationship from moving along further.  If I’m no longer in the Burg, I obviously can’t work for the Bonds Office, but nor do I want to if and when I return.  The issue with my future employment, or lack thereof, is where I need your help again.

"I don't want to stop working, but should I work for you, I would want to meet the same standards as any Rangeman employee.  I do not want the standards or requirements bent, because of my relationship with you.  That would only serve to make me feel like I am taking advantage of you.  I'm willing to train, and, I hope I don't regret these words, I'm willing to work out, though I can't do field work right now.  I'm a danger to myself and others.  I've lost my confidence, I'm distracted, and I feel the burden of too many things being my fault after all."  I am holding Ranger's shirt tightly in my hand as I confess my awareness of my professional shortcomings.  I’m afraid he’s going reject my proposal, saying that I won’t be able to meet the requirements.  He slides his hand on top of mine.

"Babe, I would love to train you.  With a good physical fitness plan, I think you'll even come to enjoy that.  Working out will help not only your body but your mind and soul."  Ranger relaxes my fingers and takes my hand in his.  "Do you remember the job I offered you some time ago in Trenton?" he asks.

“The office job?” I reply, wrinkling my nose in thought.  “As I recall, it seemed like something I’m still not qualified for, and the last thing I want is to hurt your business any more than I already have.”

I feel Ranger turn, and I find myself looking into his intent and serious face.  “I would never offer you something I didn’t think you could handle.  Did you know your apprehension rate as a BEA is in the high 90th percentile?  That’s rare in this business.  You have exceptional instincts, and while your methods are unconventional, you excel at playing to your strengths.  With training, you will be one of the best in the field.  The Core Team has long been after me to hire you as the Assistant Operations Officer under Lester and full Administrative Officer for Rangeman.  You have years of field experience, you have a business degree, and very few people, especially civilians, can integrate themselves into the Rangeman work environment the way you have.  I’m not saying you’d have to take on the role immediately, and you’d certainly have whatever training you needed to build into full strength.  Additionally, you would be a salaried employee with the potential to eventually be a Rangeman partner.”

My mouth opens in shock.  No one thinks I'm good at anything, let alone having the ability to be one of the best.  I was aiming for adequate and not embarrassing.  I close my mouth, considering my reply.  "Truthfully," I begin, "I'm having a hard time reconciling your view of me with my Burg-tainted view of me.  Although I’m not ready to accept a position like that yet, I would like to work for you.  I think it would be best if we could start lower than the executive officer level, perhaps half or three-quarters time while I train and put my life back together, reassessing in a few months.  I'm assuming even at less than full-time my salary would be enough where I don't have to wonder if I'll be able to pay rent and eat month to month.  I haven't had that kind of financial security for a long time, and it would help me focus on making myself better."

Ranger nods before saying, “I agree.  We can work out the specifics of your job later.  Babe, I know your financial independence is important to you, but know you don’t have to want or need for anything with me.  Freely given, what’s mine is yours.”

I squeeze his hand, replying, “I know, Ranger, and I appreciate it, but having a separate income stream is something I need right now.  After Dickie, I had nothing left; I was completely destitute.  I can’t ever be afraid of being penniless again.  Before you say anything, I know you’re not Dickie, but I need my own money for my sanity.”  He nods again.

I sigh and look down.  "This brings me to my last major decision.  I've already given you an idea of how much I've been struggling these past few weeks.  I feel in some ways as though the dam of denial I thought was working so well for me has broken, and I'm awash in the memories, feelings, and often sensations of so many horrible events.  One moment I feel fine, and the next I'm paralyzed with fear, shame, vulnerability, anguish, and so much more.  I don't sleep, I've had no appetite, and it's a challenge for me to get through the minimal requirements of my day sometimes.  I know that isn't healthy.  Talking to you has helped, but it isn’t a long-term solution.”  I pause, my breath catching, the emotions simply confessing rising in my throat with eyes watering.  “I think I need to see a therapist.”

I'm expecting Ranger's judgment, for him to see again how weak and pathetic I am.  Instead, he wraps me in a warm hug, kisses the top of my head, and says, "I'm proud of you, Babe."  My heart soars, and I consider how incredible he is while he continues, "We have therapists that we contract with near each Rangeman location.  Often the guys come home from missions with demons.  The therapists help them work through their issues.  I can set you up with one of the therapists in Miami if you'd like.  Whenever you're ready to go back to Trenton, the therapist will share all your information with their colleague in Trenton so you can continue, if you still need the sessions."

I pause, considering the offer.  "If I use a Rangeman contracted provider," I start, "will everyone know?  Will ‘Stephanie sees a shrink' be the new office gossip?"  Coming from an environment such as the Burg, where everything I do is under constant scrutiny, I desperately want to guard myself against unnecessary judgment in the future.

“No, Babe.  Our therapists work from their offsite offices.  Bobby confidentially initiates the paperwork to set up the first visit, and all appointments are subsequently set up by you.  If myself or another Rangeman employee of your choosing accompanies you and you agree to keep a panic button on you, we could also turn off vehicle tracking.  I want you to be comfortable,” Ranger says, ameliorating my concerns. 

I appreciate his explanation, but it brings up another big question, and I feel myself panicking at the potential ramifications.  I pull back abruptly and look at Ranger's concerned face.  "Who are you going to tell about all the things I told you?  What are you going to tell them?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed, anxiety on the edge of my voice.  I ramble, continuing without pause, "I mean, I guess you have to say something if you move to Miami, but I don't want anyone to..."

Ranger interrupts me, his voice slightly louder than my own, "Babe, it's okay."  When I stop, he continues in a softer voice, "I won't say anything without your permission.  One privilege of being the owner is that I don't have to justify my actions.  However, Babe, you can trust the Core Team.  They already see you as a sister and would do anything for you."

I sigh in relief and wipe my hands over my face before rubbing my neck, head bowed.  _Trust, I have to trust, and I must be brave._   “I’m sorry.  Trust is something I am learning.  You may tell the Core Team what you think is prudent.  Thank you for always believing in me and always helping me,” I say. 

I continue to sit slightly apart, placing my hands in my lap tightly woven together.  I feel anxious because this conversation, while critical to moving forward, is taking its emotional toll.  I take two deep breaths to center myself.  The last topic I need to address is the hardest.

"I know our relationship has never lacked between the sheets," I say quietly.  "I'm afraid you are going to be frustrated with me for being more reserved now, especially since we are officially together.  I'm sorry.  I'm finding second base a struggle, and I want to work on being more physically available to you.”  I sigh, tears gathering in my eyes.  “Nothing feels quite right for me.   I, I, want to, and then, I feel overwhelmed and afraid, and I begin to confuse what's in front of me with what's in the past.  I think that it’s Joe’s hands on me, and his kisses, bringing back the shame my six, and sixteen-year-old selves felt.  I know it isn’t fair, that it isn’t you, but even recently Joe betrayed my trust again.”  My words are rushing, and I'm tripping over them, tears freely falling.  "I want to be good enough, to keep you satisfied, to enjoy that part of our lives, I just..."  I pull my knees up to my chest, resting my chin there as my words fail.

I feel a roughly calloused finger under my chin, pulling up my gaze.  Through the watery haze of tears, I see Ranger looking at me tenderly.  He uses his other hand to wipe my tears before placing both hands gently on my shoulders.  "Babe, you are more than enough for me.  Our relationship is so much more than sex.  While I love being with you that way, what matters more to me is being with you in whatever way makes you feel safe and loved.  You are in control, no questions asked.  If I ever push too hard, tell me."  He leans in to kiss my forehead.  "I," he kisses my cheek.  "Love," he kisses my other cheek.  "You," and he kisses me feather-light on the lips.

I sag into his chest, my tears from the stress of the confession and equal measures relief quietly soaking his shirt.  “I love you, too,” I say softly in reply.

“Babe, I have one favor to ask of you,” Ranger says, rubbing my back.  “When we aren’t in a work environment, will you please call me Carlos?”

I pull back and smile.  “Carlos,” I give the name a try.  It sends a shiver of delight down my spine.  “Mmmmm,” I sigh, before kissing him. 

In his arms, I feel free to fly with that kiss, and I soar with peace and hope for the future.


End file.
